



I 




Book , H 5 1k 
Copyright N°_t O' • 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 

















How 

George Edwards 
Scrapped Religion 

% 

Rev. Simon FitzSimons 

M 

AUTHOR OF 

“a refutation of agnosticism” 

“REVISED DARWINISM” ETC. 



1923 

THE STRATFORD COMPANY, Publishers 
Boston, Massachusetts 











H e 

'Os. 


Copyright, 1923 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Mass. 


» 

4 4 

" i 

<. < t 


The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


Contents 


Chapter 

I 

Introductory. 

Page 

. 1 

II 

The Edwards — The Mother . 

. 10 

III 

The Edwards — The Son 

. 23 

IV 

Mother and Son .... 

. 35 

V 

Eose. 

. 53 

VI 

The Great Enterprise 

. 67 

vn 

Hope Revived. 

. 82 

VHI 

The Missing Link .... 

. 85 

IX 

Scientific Conference 

. 90 

X 

Returning Home .... 

. 105 

XI 

Dr. Hunter. 

. 113 

XII 

Among the Specimens 

. 122 

XIII 

Professor Huxley’s Hippodrome 

. 130 

XIV 

Science, History and Politics 

. 139 

XV 

Taking New Soundings . 

. 147 

XVI 

Getting Acquainted 

. 153 

XVII 

The New Assistant .... 

. 160 

XVIII 

The New Club. 

. 166 






CONTENTS 


XIX 

Among the Intellectuals . 

. 171 

XX 

More Intellectuality and Still More 

. 178 

XXI 

The Perennial Bore 

. 194 

XXII 

Discussion with Varieties 

. 199 

XXIII 

Keeping Posted .... 

, 212 

XXIV 

Extremes Meet .... 

. 215 

XXV 

En Bloc ...... 

. 222 

XXVI 

Islands, Reefs, Shoals 

, 228 

XXVII 

Father Newcome .... 

, 239 

XXVIII 

Bathybius. 

' . 243 

XXIX 

A Savants’ Version .... 

. 249 

XXX 

A Modernist and Radium 

. 258 

XXXI 

A Misapprehension and Its Sequel . 

. 266 

XXXII 

After the Battle .... 

. 289 

XXXIII 

The Scientists and Radium 

. 297 

XXXIV 

The Cancer Hospital 

. 307 
















Foreword 

T HE scene of the following story is laid in the closing 
years of the last century when the theory of evolution 
was at its highest ebb as a tidal effect. Whatever dis¬ 
turbances there have been since that period have been merely 
manufactured tempests—Ariel-Prospero storms—which, with 
all their dire threatenings and dread lightnings, have harmed 
no one. For since the days of Darwin, in spite of all the 
boastings to the contrary, not a single tittle of proof has been 
added to his theory. That this is so, is shown from the fact 
that when closely cornered, the present-day evolutionist 
invariably appeals to Darwin. Hence, the contentions of 
the present volume are as efficacious as if the scene was laid 
in the year 1923. 

It may be added that this is frankly a novel with a 
purpose, and those who are frightened by the term would 
do well to avoid opening the book. 

















CHAPTER I 


Introductory 


“TTOW did you find Mrs. Edwards, this morning?” 

1 1 inquired Father Ramsay’s niece, in phrase somewhat 
ambiguous, as she looked in at the door of her 
uncle’s study, on her way down street to do her morning 
shopping for the little clerical household. 

The question was an inquiry concerning the health of an 
invalid, and did not raise in the mind of either questioner or 
questioned — as possibly it may have done in the mind of the 
reader — any notion whatever of discovery of anybody miss¬ 
ing — either lost, strayed or stolen — made by Father Ramsay 
in the course of his morning ramble. 

Father Ramsay raised a fine intellectual face, still youth¬ 
ful, from the newspaper whose columns he was scanning with 


evident interest, and replied in like ambiguous terms. 


“I found her much weaker than on any previous visit, 
but,” he added after a slight pause, “that symptom would not 
greatly alarm me, were it not that it is accompanied by great 
mental depression. Low physical condition attended by low¬ 
ness of spirits does not warrant very flattering hopes on the 
part of Mrs. Edwards’ friends.” 

He spoke manifestly with the deepest interest; and while 
speaking, the shadow of serious — and even troubled — 
thought gathered on the handsome face. It was evidently a 
case of illness that touched the pastor more deeply than the 
ordinary sick call. 

“Do you think her depression is due to her prolonged 
illness; or is it because she has given up all hope of recovery ? ’ ’ 





HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


And the same anxious shade of feeling was easily detected 
in the niece’s voice, although there could be easily perceived 
also an ineffectual effort to conceal it. 

“To neither.” was the quick response. “Mrs. Edwards, 
as you know, has borne her illness with the most edifying 
patience and resignation — fortitude and cheerfulness would 
express it better. Neither sickness nor death has any terrors 
for her.” 

“I wish we could devise some means of reviving her 
spirits,” said the niece in a half-meditative way, which showed 
that she had been listening with less interest to his last 
remark than to his first. She was now evidently more en¬ 
grossed with her own thoughts than with what her uncle was 
saying. 

There is just one person in the world who could do that 
— and,” after a slight pause, “he is the last person in the 
world who is likely to do it. It is safe to say that within six 
months Mrs. Edwards will be sleeping beneath the turf in 
Goshen cemetery, and when the stone is erected over her 
grave, it might be truthfully inscribed ‘Died of a broken 
heart! ’ ” 

He spoke with deep feeling. There was neither anger 
nor indignation in either voice or manner. But voice and 
inflexion indicated plainly an infinite regret at what was evi¬ 
dent^ a deplorable situation in the opinion of Father Ramsay. 
He appeared like a man who is contemplating a hopeless 
problem — an unaccountable and irremediable error some¬ 
where on the part of some one. Yet so quiet and subdued was 
the feeling of Father Ramsay that it was very evident the 
unmentioned cause of the whole difficulty was not going to 
receive even severe censure at his hands. The secret of the 
trouble, plainly enough, lay not in any act of malice on the 
part of anyone. Rather would a stranger gather from tone, 
speech, look and gesture, that there had been a deplorable 
misunderstanding, wrongheadedness, even fatuity, somewhere; 


INTRODUCTORY 


but that Father Ramsay was pleased to lean to the side of pity 
for the evil doer. 

The niece evidently understood him. 

“When is he expected?” she inquired in a voice from 
which she tried in vain to exclude every sentiment but that 
of the most ordinary altruistic interest. 

1 * They expect him soon — almost any day. I find a 
paragraph, however, in the morning paper announcing that 
he lectured last night at Bleston on his new subject.” This 
time there was a slight shade of hardly disguised disgust 
discernible in the tone. 

“George?”, she exclaimed in consternation, and with a 
rising inflection on the word which was half exclamation, half 
inquiry. 

“George!” And the emphatic answer was quite as 
laconic; but he now turned and scanned the face of his relative 
on which was plainly written, in a pallor which had driven 
every vestige of color from it, the sudden shock and horror 
which his intelligence imparted. 

Father Ramsay noticed it and made some attempt to 
nullify the effect of his words, but his niece, Rose Ramsay, 
had already disappeared in the flood of radiant sunlight that 
awaited her on the threshold. 

It was one of those ravishing autumn mornings when the 
hills are ablaze with foliage and the quivering sunbeams can 
be seen sinuous and trembling, dancing against the azure of 
the sky, and among the browns, grays, crimsons and 
yellows of branch and field and tinted leaf; while the blinding 
sunshine envelopes hill and vale, city and pastoral scene in a 
sheen of radiant glory such as we fail to find at any other 
season. 

But Rose Ramsay heeded not the glorious sunshine nor 
the brilliant hues with which it had painted leaf and flower, 
nor the busy squirrels that seemed to chase each other around 
the barks of the oaks, and hickories, and elms of the shaded 

[ 3 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


street. Even the glory of the maples was lost upon her as 
she moved mechanically beneath their branches, which, in the 
hot glow of the late antnmnal sun, gave so cooling and grateful 
a shade. Like one in a dream she glided noiselessly as she 
took the diagonal path through the park, heedless of the glory 
which the sunlight and foliage had painted against the back¬ 
ground >of the blue sky above her head. Automatically she 
gave her orders at the different stores. The susceptible new 
clerk at the grocery, usually so spellbound by her beauty that 
he was constantly getting her orders topsyturvy, and so 
flustered by her presence that he could never muster up 
sufficient courage to look her directly in the face, felt today, 
somehow, that he could safely attempt the impossible without 
being struck blind by the gaze. It was — he told one of his 
friends later — as though the sun had been thinly veiled by 
a silvery cloud and you could follow its outline without being 
completely dazzled, and get some notion of the contour of her 
face with its wondrous beauty. Now for the first time he 
could safely say whether her face w r as round, or long, or oval. 
Not that a cloud rested upon it; but a sadness sweet and 
ineffably tender seemed to wrap it like a veil of gossamer which 
revealed instead of hiding its perfect outline. 

Something like a sigh escaped her as she turned at last, 
all her errands disposed of, to enter the pleasant, well-shaded 
avenue that led back to the rectory. The thoughts which had 
been held in abeyance until now — buried beneath the more 
immediate and imperative demands of her numerous homely 
errands, now that these were removed — came to the surface 
clamoring for a hearing, and she found herself squarely 
facing the reality of her life which she never before had dared 
to bring directly before her. 

“Yes. Father Ramsay was right. There was no doubt of 
it. Mrs. Edwards was rapidly sinking into her grave and 
George was the cause of it. His mother was, as Father 
Ramsay had said, actually dying of a broken heart — and 

[ 4 ] 


INTRODUCTORY 


George was the indubitable cause. Was his mother’s the only 
heart George was breaking?” 

Rose Ramsay did not ask herself this question; but the 
feeling at her heart answered it for her without the asking. 
An inexpressible sadness swept over her. Her footsteps 
seemed to drag on the pavement from the very weight of her 
heart; and of all the glorious sunlight that wrapped her 
round, not one single ray penetrated to her heart. 

On her way back to the rectory she slipped quietly into 
the church and dropped into her wonted place of private 
devotion before the great altar. Long did she remain semi- 
prostrate, her head buried in her hands. Her light figure did 
not sway, but from time to time it trembled violently as if 
shaken by convulsions, and now and then a sob shook her 
frame. The heaving chest showed the depth of her emotion. 
An occasional sigh told of the great grief that weighed upon 
her heart. At last, however, the tremulous form regained its 
composure. The buried face was now raised from the open 
palms. The troubled spirit had evidently conquered its agita¬ 
tion, for the frame shook no longer. In fact it now had become 
motionless with the rigidity of a stature. The countenance 
was tranquil; the eye was serene; the gaze was riveted upon 
the tabernacle; the whole figure betokened peace, calmness, 
and sweetness; but a heart tragedy had occupied that brief 
half hour during which she knelt before the tabernacle. 
There had been there an altar and a sacrifice — one of those 
unseen, hidden sacrifices which are so common in the world — 
one of those acts of self-immolation where the uplifted axe is 
stayed by no angel hand but is buried in the Isaac of the 
heart’s best hopes and longings, and where the lifeblood of 
youth’s love flows freely even to the last drop. During these 
sacrificial moments before the altar she had laid down all her 
dreams and hopes for life’s best happiness. All her joy in 
this world she laid upon the altar of affection. Yes! Let 
God take all from her; but let George who had broken his 

[ 5 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


mother’s heart; and who, but, perhaps, for her act of self- 
immolation, would have broken hers also — let George but 
he restored to God—to religion. There was sweetness, too, 
in this act of self-sacrifice, and although the heart ached 
and pained quite keenly, there was evidently there the 
application of a soothing balm which blunted the unbearable 
sharpness of the edge. 

Had the grocer’s clerk but seen her now as she rose 
from her knees and made her genuflection before the high 
altar before leaving the church, he might have safely gazed 
upon her features without fear of blinding. The dazzling 
brilliancy of her beauty seemed to have disappeared although 
the beauty itself unmistakably remained; but it was a 
spiritual look that was now on her face. The outlines were 
all still there; but the piquancy had departed. The light 
that shone in her countenance had the look rather of heaven 
than of earth. When she entered the church she was almost 
forced to grope her way blindly. She had almost tottered 
as she moved towards the high altar. But now her step 
was firm and light, though not quite as elastic, as it had 
been one month ago. Peace, calmness, resignation reigned 
— quite evidently — in her soul. She made her way back 
quietly to the rectory, went directly to the kitchen for a 
conference with Father Ramsay’s housekeeper in commis¬ 
sariats and household plans, and discussed matters with 
Margaret as calmly as if there had been no priestess or vic¬ 
tim before the altar a few moments before. 

Margaret, in whose esteem Rose held a place scarcely 
second to that of Father Ramsay, himself, at once perceived 
the change that had come over Miss Ramsay. She was a 
prudent matron, however, and kept her thoughts to herself; 
but now and then she stole sidelong glances at Rose — 
glances of awe and reverence now rather than of admira¬ 
tion. The new light on Miss Ramsay’s face, which was 
now pale and almost transfigured, gave her, she said after- 

[ 6 ] 


INTRODUCTORY 


wards, the impression “of marble statuary in a soft, white, 
ethereal light.” And when later that same day Matilda 
Travers came in, as was her wont, with her usual budget of 
parish gossip, and, among the items began to discuss Rose’s 
future prospects, telling that every one remarked how atten¬ 
tive to Miss Ramsay, the young millionaire, Bernard Brady, 
tried to be, and how the famous Judge Keogh had become 
almost daft about her, Margaret’s somewhat confident re¬ 
mark was: “I’m thinking they’ll wait a bit; and my advice 
to them would be to look elsewhere, for if I’m not very much 
mistaken, Miss Rose has made her choice already” — the 
premises on which this sage and logical conclusion was 
built being nothing more or less than Rose’s remarkably 
changed appearance and her quiet but impressive manner 
during the preceding interview. Margaret’s woman’s wits, 
long experience, and careful observation, quiet though they 
were, often led her to draw more accurate conclusions than 
were often reached by the most logical reasoners. While 
Margaret was quietly observing all this, however, and draw¬ 
ing her own conclusions almost unconsciously, her only 
remark at present was: 

“Father Ridgeway and a strange priest are with 
Father Ramsay in his study and Father Shairp has returned 
from his trip. I presume they will both stay to dinner,” 
she added, viewing their visit from her own domestic stand¬ 
point and its relation to the culinary department. 

“I am so glad that Father Shairp has returned. He 
always carries so much sunshine with him, and his absence 
always makes Frank despondent,” replied Rose, ignoring 
altogether the prandial problem suggested by Margaret. 

“Yes, and Father Ridgeway always tells such good 
stories. I am sure Father (this was Margaret’s usual way 
of designating Father Ramsay; no matter how many other 
reverend fathers there might happen to be in question, he 
was always “Father” by way of pre-eminence) always 

[ 7 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


seems to be a different man when he has him with him. I 
always like to hear his ringing laugh in the dining room.” 
Evidently if there was worry in the kitchen about un¬ 
expected guests for dinner, it was not without its attendant 
compensations. 

“His stories are very good” (with the emphasis on the 
are) rejoined Rose picking up her handbag as if to go; “but 
all the same, few can equal Father Shairp in his original 
sallies. His wit is unexcelled.” 

Whatever the difference of opinion there might be about 
the wit or the stories, an explosion of laughter in three-part 
harmony, came just then from the direction of the library, 
Father Ramsay’s part being a slight suggestion of falsetto, 
as if a serious man had been startled into laughter un¬ 
warned. 

“I suppose Father Ridgeway has been telling one of 
his stories,” said the elder woman, at the same time making 
a somewhat quick movement in the direction of her pots 
and kettles, as who should say; jokes and laughter are all 
right in their way, but they are also sure to sharpen the 
appetite. Margaret was proceeding to describe the 
“strange” priest who had accompanied Father Ridgeway, 
when our most inconvenient convenience, and most imperti¬ 
nent of servants, which respects neither person, place nor 
occasion, and which, like conscience, will not be put off 
without an answer, in stringent terms ushered in a far-off 
intruder, and persisted in its thrills until Rose took down 
the receiver. It proved to be a summons from Edith 
Kingsley, Mrs. Edward’s niece, requesting Rose to take 
her place at the side of the invalid for the remainder of the 
day, she herself having been called home unexpectedly by 
the sudden illness of her mother. Such a summons was 
sacred to Rose, and she started immediately on her errand 
of mercy. 

The “strange” priest mentioned by Margaret proved 

[81 


INTRODUCTORY 


to be Dr. Johnson, one of George Edward’s most intimate 
college friends, who had just returned from a protracted 
sojourn abroad. Having learned of Mrs. Edward’s condi¬ 
tion, he resolved to pay her a visit, and later in the day, he, 
too, wended his way to the home of the invalid. 


* 


[ 9 ] 


CHAPTER II 


The Edwards — The Mother 

M RS. EDWARDS’ mansion was situated in a charming 
spot. It was separated from the university grounds 
by merely a brawling brook, which, fed by perennial 
springs a little distance further up the hillside, ever mur¬ 
mured the same song. Further down the valley, indeed, it 
sometimes swelled, raged, fumed, foamed, and thundered 
mightily in its own little way, when spring freshets added 
volumes to its ordinary stream — much like a tiny terrier 
that sometimes gets tremendously angry, and barks and 
growls in its wrathful fury, beautifully displaying the im¬ 
potent mightiness of its tiny wrath. But here, so near the 
source of its music and its life, the stream was unaffected by 
the storms or the freshets, and ever babbled the same song 
summer and winter through, as it trickled over the pebbles 
and shelving rocks; so that if it never was dried up by the 
summer heats, being so profusely nursed at the fountain’s 
breast, so it never lost its existence—the thread of its life was 
never broken by the icy hand of winter, like other streams 
less carefully parented or less tenderly nursed. Its music 
was constant, ceaseless, uninterrupted, and in this particular 
spot never varied its monotonous little song. In this respect 
it was unique, and was consequently a source of wonder and 
admiration to the neighborhood, and even of scientific in¬ 
vestigation and considerable thought to the savants of the 
university. 

Today it babbled, its gurgling music with a little sadness, 
or so it seemed to the visitor; or was it that it caught the 

[10] 


THE EDWARDS —THE MOTHER 


sombre feeling from the tall jews along its banks or from the 
dying foliage on which autumn was so liberally lavishing 
its hectic glow before death, giving them the flush of florid 
decay, as if to reconcile them to dying, by the splendor and 
glory in which she dressed them before they donned their 
last shroud ? Or was it that the sadness which brooded over 
the mansion close by had extended itself to the particular 
nymph that presided over this sylvan stream? For a sombre 
stillness seemed to hang around the stately old edifice. In 
spite of the rich colorings of the foliage bordering the little 
avenue and in spite of the glint of the sunshine as it glanced 
against the barks of the cleanshafted maples, and pierced 
through the tangled branches of the elms, oaks and beeches, 
the great brown house with its sombre and stately look 
seemed to have overmastered whatever there might be of 
the gay or the frivolous in the entire environment, and over 
all, the brilliant glories of autumn seemed to have cast its 
shadows of quiet sombre sadness. 

The great door of oak seemed to swing open soberly 
and sadly and with a measured quiet in response to Father 
Johnson’s ring. The hangings and draperies seemed to have 
a mute grief of their own. Every sound seemed to be 
muffled. Conversation was carried on in a subdued tone. 
Footfalls sank soundless and were lost in the rich Axmin- 
sters. A calm oppressive stillness rested upon everything. 
On every face could be read the tale that illness — hopeless, 
remorseless illness — was now duly installed as the guest 
of honor, welcome or unwelcome, in this splendid mansion. 
The shades were not more than half-drawn as Father 
Johnson waited in the library with its long row of low cases 
of books, surmounted by busts of the great men of literature 
of all time and in all lands, while the servant went upstairs 
noiselessly as a phantom to announce the visitor. 

The subdued voice, the tremulous greeting, the hush of 
the interior gave an impression of sadness and awe to the 

[n] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


visitor that seemed to be the harbinger of swiftly-approaching 
death. 

A half open door at the other end of the library oppo¬ 
site that by which Father Johnson entered was opened 
fully but softly, and Rose Ramsay entered. 

“I am so glad you have come, Father Johnson, she said 
quietly and uneffusively. “She was beginning to fear that 
you might not be able to spare the time, your work is so 
compelling.’’ 

“It should be very compelling indeed to allow me to 
pass through without calling to see so old and true a friend 
as Mrs. Edwards, the mother of my dearest friend, George 
Edwards.” 

The half darkened room did not permit Father Johnson 
to see the flush that crimsoned the cheek of Rose — sorely 
against her will. The sudden and unexpected mention of 
George’s name took her by surprise. But she at once re¬ 
solved that this must not occur again, at the same time that 
she mentally rebuked herself. She must keep strict guard 
for the future and must not allow herself to betray her 
feelings either to herself or others. 

“She will be pleased to hear that you and he (she did 
not trust herself to utter his name) continue to be such good 
friends.” 

“But how is Mrs. Edwards? Is her case as hopeless as 
report would make it?” 

“I do not know what report says; but it could hardly 
exaggerate the hopelessness of her condition. She is appar¬ 
ently quite strong at times, but the physician tells us her case 
admits of no hope and even that the end may not be so far 
distant.” 

“Does she realize the precariousness — the hopelessness 
— of her condition?” 

“Perfectly. More so than any of us —more even than 
the doctors themselves — but she is expecting you” and 

[12] 


THE EDWARDS —THE MOTHER 


she showed the way up the broad stairway following closely 
behind him. 

When Father Johnson entered the sick room he looked 
in the direction of the large oak bed in search of the invalid, 
and failing to locate her there, his eyes wandered around 
the room in some surprise in search of her. Upon a 
curiously contrived chair, or couch, or bedchair, for it par¬ 
took of the nature of all three, close beside an open window 
that overlooked the park, Mrs. Edwards lay, or rather sat 
upright, in an ocean of pillows. The ease with which the 
piece of furniture was adjusted was a marvel. There was 
scarcely a possible position which a patient might be sup¬ 
posed to want to assume — to which it did not lend itself. 
The attendant or the nurse simply moved a lever or released 
a spring and with the addition or removal of a cushion, the 
desired change was effected in an instant without the 
slightest pain. The chair w T as a contrivance of love and 
affection, constructed by her son, George Edwards, with his 
own hands, for he was a born engineer and mechanic and 
would have distinguished himself in this line without doubt, 
hadhenot left the department of industrial science for that of 
speculative, and exchanged scientific engineering for biology. 
Perhaps this was why his mother clung to it so steadfastly 
and could not be persuaded to recline even during the night 
on her luxurious stately bed. Perhaps, too, it was that she 
found here that rest, and comfort, and ease of changed 
position which she could not easly have found in the larger 
and more elegant couch. Be that as it may she persistently 
clung to this mechanical wonder and it was the one point of 
material comfort which she allowed herself during her long 
and trying illness. 

When Father Johnson discovered her, it seemed to him 
that her wan and worn face was like a little oasis in a 
wilderness of cushions soft with silk and eiderdown, or like 
a tiny island in the midst of a many-colored sea. The body 

[i3] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


seemed to have shrunk away. The face was small, thin and 
woe-begone. It was evidently once a face of surpassing 
sweetness. Indeed much of the sweetness yet lingered, al¬ 
though the curves about the mouth and lips had been ruth¬ 
lessly robbed of their beauty by the ravishing hand of dis¬ 
ease. The lips were drawn tightly back; the cheekbones 
were markedly growing in prominence, while the hollows of 
the sunken cheeks beneath showed that there had been much 
bodily suffering. But the wan face was lit up by a smile of 
surpassing sweetness and a glow seemed to come back and 
kindle once more into life the deep gray eyes which turned 
to greet Father Johnson with a warmth of recognition and 
welcome. Suffering had made fearful ravages in every 
feature and had played sad havoc with nose, mouth and 
lips; but the eyes yet retained their old fire, or if the fire 
smouldered, they were easily kindled back into a living 
flame which burned with all the old time brightness and 
vigor, if only for a moment. The entire look gave an impres¬ 
sion which is seldom met with even in a sick chamber — 
and indeed was of a type but seldom seen. Physical suffer¬ 
ing there evidently was — had been — would be yet for 
some time. But the whole appearance indicated a mental 
anguish of such tension that the physical pain would hardly 
be felt; even though it was changing the whole appearance 
of the sufferer. It was quite evident that this anguish had 
swept like a torrent over her, completely submerging every 
faculty, even the faculty for physical pain. It was plain, 
too, that the tidal wave of suffering had not yet receded; 
for doubt, dread, fright, even hopeless and inconsolable fear 
seemed to have set an indelible seal upon her. The ravages 
of a leaden, hopeless, tragic grief were traceable in her 
features; yet withal there was a sweetness, and patience, and 
resignation in the sunken eyes as they looked out from be¬ 
neath the ashen eyebrows, and their calmness and resigna¬ 
tion seemed to light up what otherwise were very caverns 


THE EDWARDS— THE MOTHER 


of despair. The whole figure and form pointed to a his¬ 
tory of a great and good soul startled — suddenly into 
calamitous grief — not by any of the ordinary commonplaces 
of vulgar misfortune — but by trial of a peculiarly searching 
and fiery kind, which, as if with all the cunning and malig¬ 
nity of intelligent evil, sought out the sensitive points in 
the soul’s anatomy and there applied the torture. She was 
about fifty-five years of age; but lying on her couch of 
suffering she presented the appearance of eighty. A grief 
that wrecks, shatters, undermines, convulses, and crushes the 
heart had manifestly done its work on that once light, viva¬ 
cious and elegant frame. Her physical disability had, how¬ 
ever, been precipitated by a railroad accident, the shock of 
which fell little short of paralysis. 

“It is so exceedingly kind of you to come so soon,” 
she said slowly extending her thin hand which was as 
transparent as alabaster. “I had just learned that you had 
returned from Italy. You see how helpless a creature and 
how stricken I have become.” 

“It pains me exceedingly to see you in this condition, 
Mrs. Edwards, I had read of your frightful accident and can 
only marvel how you are still alive. Please God, you will 
soon be well, however. Your physician gives encouragement 
and hope does he not?” 

“From the effects of the accident I might, perhaps, re¬ 
cover; from this” — and she pointed in the direction of her 
heart — “never.” 

She continued to point again and again in a hopeless 
way with the index finger slightly projecting beyond the 
others to her broken heart. Her emotion was fast arising 
and she seemed to fling herself into it in an almost desperate 
way as a swimmer sometimes flings himself into a threaten¬ 
ing breaker. 

“The wreck of my body might pass; but the wreck of 
all my love and hope, of all my joy and pride, of all my 

05 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


religions hope and consolation has made the railroad catas¬ 
trophe, shocking though it was, appear but a mere trifle. 
Oh! Oh!” she added in accents that could come only from 
a breaking heart or one already broken, “If it were anything 
else but that!” 

“God has, indeed, permitted you to be greatly tried — 
and tried where your feelings were the most tender and 
sensitive,” said Father Johnson deeply moved by her emo¬ 
tion. The situation was becoming trying. 

“Oh! What did I ever do to God, that I should be 
visited with such a dreadful affliction ? Heaven knows I was 
willing to bear — aye,” she added with a smile worthy of the 
the best ages of faith — even of the early martyrs — , “aye, 
to bear with joy, any calamity God might choose to send me. 
Any cross from His hand I would have welcomed. I would 
have taken it joyously from His shoulders and placed it on 
mine and gone on my way rejoicing — following in His 
footsteps — ready to suffer anything — everything for his 
sake — anything — anything — but this! But this one does 
not — can not — come from His hands. Oh ! if it did — if 
I could believe it did” — she added in a voice growing 
in fervor — in intensity, “I could take this thorny 
crown and press it hard upon my brow — I could 
take the cruel chalice with all its bitterness and drain 
it to the dregs —. But no— ” she added after a moment’s 
reflection in which her gaze was fixed as if weighing 
the possibility of such a thing, and then rising with 
animation to reject the idea — “No! No! This cross does 
not come from His hands. He did not make my son an un¬ 
believer”— and head and voice sank together as if the 
contemplation of the awful reality was one which utterly 
prostrated her to earth. 

For such grief as this there was no solace but silent 
sympathy. Sorrow like this Father Johnson wisely thought 
should have its vent. 


THE EDWARDS — THE MOTHER 


“I have examined my life carefully and minutely,” she 
resumed after a moment’s pause, ‘‘to see if aught I have done 
has brought this punishment. Perhaps I have not been 
single minded enough in my purpose, though God knows I 
have tried to be.” She now spoke in a thoroughly subdued 
voice every word breathing an accent of despair. “It may 
be that I have taken too much pride — God help a mother’s 
foolish, fond love — in my son’s talents, attainments, and 
nobility of character; and that it is for this—this—this—” 
and she ceased to speak though she shook her head in a dole¬ 
ful pitiful way. 

“You certainly had reason, if mother ever had, to be 
proud of your son. You were more than justified in your 
high estimate of him,” ventured Father Johnson, seeing her 
hesitate. 

“Ah! God forgive a mother’s pride! I believe that 
was where I sinned,” she rejoined with animation. “His 
father grudged him to the altar; but I had hoped for such 
wonderful things from George that I believed he would be 
necessary for the church. I believed that the church—God’s 
church — just think of it — stood in need of just such men. 
I foolishly thought that in the hour of her trial when danger 
threatened, his talents — his abilities — would be her strong 
defense; that he would come like another Loyola and mar¬ 
shall his ranks in her defense; that like another St. Philip 
Neri, he would raise up an army of sons whose voice and pen 
would be her strength and bulwark, that wherever the 
danger was greatest or the enemy pressed the thickest, 
there he would be in the foremost ranks—and of the fore¬ 
most rank the foremost — that he would lead her out of 
bondage and ever bring her victory. I had loved to think 
that his intellect might place her old truths in a new and 
captivating light for a flippant and shallow age and a new 
and unbelieving generation — that like another St. Augus¬ 
tine he would confound and overthrow the modern 

[ 17 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Manichean. And now — and now — ” — she shook her head 
in a tumult of grief but continued speaking — “ behold how 
the fine gold has become dimmed, its finest color is changed; 
the stones of the sanctuary are scattered. Now — now — he 
is lost to his church — lost to religion — lost to me — lost to 
His God; and what is worse still,” she fairly shrieked, “he 
is drawing souls with him to destruction. Oh! ’ ’ she cried 
in an agony of despair, “If this be my sin — how — can — I 
— expiate it?” 

She sank hack on her pillows completely exhausted and 
overcome by her fearful sorrow. It was difficult to cope with 
a grief like this, and Father Johnson, while his heart bled 
for the mother, felt his gorge rising against the son who 
caused such grief. What balm could be poured into an open, 
gaping, festering wound of this nature, with any hope of 
relief ? 

“My dear friend” he said in a gentle soothing voice, 
“do not reproach yourself unnecessarily. God can yet do 
all things for the best. Out of evil He can bring good. His 
ways are wondrous and incomprehensible. He has — He 
must have—permitted this for His own wise ends. Meanwhile 
we shall all storm heaven in George’s behalf. We shall keep 
knocking at heaven’s gates, like the beggar at the door of the 
householder, until at last, if only to be rid of us, heaven will 
listen to our supplications and restore George to his senses, 
his religion and his mother.” 

“An apostate never gets the grace of conversion,” she 
answered almost savagely and sitting bolt upright. 

“A willing apostate seldom indeed, if ever; but George 
has not been wilful. He has been dazzled, blinded, deceived by 
the false glare and glitter of science. His greatest sin has 
been in casting away thoughtlessly his religious beliefs. His 
defection can hardly be called an apostasy. It has not the 
guilty characteristic of that detestable vice.” 

The notion seemed to console her a little; but she added 

[18] 


THE EDWARDS —THE MOTHER 


quickly — it was evident from her frequent allusion to it 
that it was the aggravating feature of his fall from faith •— 
“But he has become even a persecutor of the church — just 
think of it — an apostate and a persecutor of the faith” — 
and she sat looking straight before her aghast at the con¬ 
templation of the unparalleled combination of wickedness. 

“We must not forget that St. Augustine was an apostate 
and that St. Paul was a persecutor of the church. St. 
Augustine was not only an intellectual but a moral apostate. 
Yet God chose both St. Paul and St. Augustine in His infi¬ 
nite designs as His choicest instruments in building up and 
defending His church.” 

“This consideration brings me my only solace. Yes. I 
know that the gentle Monica mourned over the spiritual 
death of her son even as I do over the death of mine and that 
heaven at last heard her prayers in his behalf. A slight 
glimmer of hope comes into my soul at times when I think of 
this erring son restored by the prayers and tears of his 
mother. Oh: If only such happiness were in store for me! 
But, no,” and her voice fell, “At least it will not come dur¬ 
ing my brief stay upon earth.” 

Her resignation struggling with her despair, touched 
Father Johnson to the very heart. Fervently he offered an 
internal prayer that heaven would send some solace into this 
suffering heart. 

“Daily, George shall be held in first remembrance, until 
he is again restored to his church, as I stand at the altar of 
sacrifice and offer up the divine oblation.” 

She was about to thank him, but he continued with a 
deprecating gesture: “George has always been my best 
friend — my more than brother. Perhaps, next to yourself, 
there is no one who sorrows more over the sad turn of 
events than I do. No one has a higher appreciation of his 
nobility of soul. ’ ’ 

“You forget, Father, there is one who grieves, if 

[19] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


possible, more even than I. But perhaps you do not know. 
Rose’s grief is deep and silent.” 

“Rose Ramsay?” 

“Yes. The dear child is my greatest consolation now. 
Her grief, however is as hidden as it is profound.” 

It was evident this was news to Father Johnson, al¬ 
though he hastened to hide his surprise in speech. 

“God will undoubtedly in His own good time give 
George back to you, to her, to all of us. Even natural causes 
must work to that end. George’s mind is too strictly logical 
to remain in this absurd position, the folly of which he must 
soon perceive. George has not yet learned to distinguish 
science from science, or one class of scientific pursuits from 
another and has confused all in a general motley group; but 
when he comes to separate, to analyze, to distinguish merits 
properly and assign credit, he will find that religion has 
absolutely nothing to fear from real science — from what 
really deserves to be called science. When his powers of 
discernment begin to work, he will at once see the wide dis¬ 
tinction between industrial science — the glory of our age 
— and speculative. It requires only a slight examina¬ 
tion to see the glory of the one and the meagre results of 

the other — and that the industrial sciences have no auarrel 

* 

whatever with religion. The modesty of the great men who 
have shed so much glory on our age is as striking as their 
works are glorious. He will then see the hollowness of the 
pretensions and claims of speculative science, and how much 
of an impostor it is; and, if George has not changed greatly, 
I know what short work he will make with impostors. For 
the moment he is dazzled and bewildered, possibly charmed. 
He is like a man who goes suddenly into a blinding electric 
light — a light which is not sunlight. He can see nothing 
but glare and glitter and all appears marvellous and glorious. 
He can not yet estimate the true value of the objects near 
him. Hie eyes have not become accustomed to the blinding 

[20] 


THE EDWARDS —THE MOTHER 


glare. Soon lie will begin to appraise them at their true 
value; and then he will see that what he now considers 
scientific truth is nothing but scientific conjecture. He may, 
indeed, like some other noble and candid minds, when im¬ 
posed upon, travel around the entire circle of doubt and 
scepticism; but like them, too, he will return, like a tired 
dove, to the bosom of the ark, there to find peace and rest. 
It is too bad that his faith has been temporarily unanchored; 
and now that it is afloat, it is apt to drift for a brief period 
in the manner I have said; but to the port it will eventually 
surely return. ’ ’ 

While he was yet speaking the tall, well developed 
figure of a remarkably handsome young man entered the 
room unperceived by either of them until he approached the 
invalid’s couch. He did not even glance at Father Johnson. 
He paused with a little start when he beheld the attenuated 
figure of the woman, but the next moment he was on his 
knees by her side as he uttered the single word “Mother!” 
She uttered a little scream of surprise, in which pain and 
gladness were blended in about equal proportions. ‘ ‘ George! ’ ’ 
she exclaimed, flinging her thin arms about his neck and 
resting them upon his brown hair imprinted upon his cheek 
a passionate kiss. 

The moment was too sacred for even the eyes of friend¬ 
ship. It is only at such times that we realize how widely 
different are the ties of family from those of even the 
strongest friendship, and how sacred is the love of the 
former compared with that of the latter. Father Johnson 
felt this and began to look upon himself as a sacrilegious 
intruder on the sacred scene — between the broken-hearted 
mother and the son who broke her heart. He left softly, 
leaving a message with the nurse in the lobby. 

When he returned to Father Ramsay’s he simply said: 

“There can be no deep seated evil where there is so 
much filial affection.” 


[21] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“That is my opinion,” replied Father Ramsay. “For 
my part, I have never believed half of what has been said 
regarding George’s religions defalcation. His defection 
must certainly be an honest one. He must have believed it 
to be an intellectual necessity. Some people regard it as 
affectation or false pride. They wonder how so fine a per¬ 
ception as George’s could be imposed upon by the vulgari¬ 
ties of the loud noisy and boisterous clamor of the specula¬ 
tive school of science; and think he has succumbed merely 
to the gabble about intelligence, in order to appear to be 
above the rest of mankind. 

“But it can not be so in George’s case. Impossible,” 
was the only answer Father Johnson vouchsafed. He was 
disgusted at the bare notion. 

“And yet it is difficult to believe that it is religious 
fright. George has certainly not been stampeded into un¬ 
belief with the mass of feather-heads. He is too keen 
sighted not to be able to see the utter hollowness of the 
modern school and the shallowness of its thought. At the 
same time he has no place in the panic stricken crowd of 
shallow intelligence and he is too honest for affectation. It 
is all a puzzle to me.” 

“I believe he is simply blinded and dazzled, and has 
followed out some of his preposterous notions of consistency 
by leaving the church and avowing his scientific faith. A 
point of honor with him. ’ ’ 

“A strange muddle it is in any case. But whatever the 
cause, it is going to accomplish one disastrous result — it 
is going to send his mother to the grave inside of six 
months. ’ ’ 


[22] 


CHAPTER III 


The Edwards — the Son 

T HE object of all this solicitude was the young man who 
entered Mrs. Edwards’ sick room unannounced — her 
son, George Edwards. He was an exceedingly interesting 
young man. Brought up by his saintly mother in an atmos¬ 
phere of piety which had not the slightest taint of super¬ 
stition on the one hand and which was wholly unacidulated 
by any flavor of puritanism on the other, he possessed an 
exceedingly frank and open nature. As his friends had 
already said of him, he was a man of unusual nobility of 
character, generous to a fault, a hater of shams and preten¬ 
sion, strong in his affections and friendships, and of a wholly 
unsuspicious nature. Then, too, he possessed what at least 
passed for extraordinary talents. With his young companions, 
Frank Ramsay and Walter Johnson, he stood always in the 
front ranks at school and in college, and this without any 
apparent effort on his part; and perhaps it was this latter 
circumstance which, after all, gave to all his acquirements and 
learning that lack of depth and solidity, or a certain super¬ 
ficiality, which did not penetrate very deeply into the sub¬ 
jects in which he shone so brilliantly as to be the envy of all 
outside the charmed trio. In this he differed widely from 
both of his colleagues. As his mother had told Father John¬ 
son, though an only son, she had destined him for the 
priesthood, but the Jesuits at Woodham — his confessor in 
particular — advised him that his vocation lay in another 
direction. With his mechanical skill it was natural that he 
should turn to engineering; but when he entered the university 

[ 23 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


he became fascinated with the natural sciences and especially 
with biology. 

Once embarked on the sea of biology he immediately fell 
under the charm of what was known to a few as Huxleyism, 
which was the rage at the time in the ranks of the embryo 
biologists; that is to say he became the dupe of that imposing 
array of arrogance that boasts much and does little — that 
is, little of what is of any value. A disappointed disciple of 
this school had once described the system briefly and appo¬ 
sitely as “All talk and no cider/’ The brag and bluster and 
browbeating and bullying of the founder of the school, strange 
to say, imposed upon George Edwards, probably because he 
never once questioned his pretensions but took them wholly 
on faith. He deemed it absurd that men of Huxley’s prestige 
could make such an ado over nothing, or that the corypheus 
of the school should assail so violently and abuse so loftily 
those who did not see fit to think as he did, unless the Hux- 
leyan position could be maintained impregnably against all 
oncomers. “Ido not exactly like his sneers ’ ’ he was wont to 
say at first, “but Professor Huxley was not a man to sneer, 
unless for strong reasons and for a good purpose.” “Why,” 
he was accustomed to add, ‘ ‘ there is malice — even brutality 
— in his assaults upon orthodoxy, and — no man — Professor 
Huxley last of all men — could use such language and strut 
so arrogantly without the strongest assurance of his position. ’ ’ 

And when some of his friends contrasted Huxlev with the 

«/ 

comparative modesty of Darwin, his reply invariably was: 
“Ah! I do not like this modesty of Darwin. It is but an 
angling for praise — a humilitas cum hamo — with all his 
great merits. When there is hard work to be done — hard 
fighting to be undertaken for the spread of scientific truth — 
the implements — the tools — that accomplish the work most 
effectually are the ones to use. When there is a warfare — as 
there is here — it is a kindness — a mercy — to use the 


THE EDWARDS —THE SON 


weapons that do the greatest damage—that are the most de¬ 
structive—and thus bring the war to a speedy termination.” 

In this way, strange to say, he conceived a great admira¬ 
tion for the insolence of Huxley, relying implicitly, for its 
justification, on the strength of the position which he believed 
lay impregnable and palpable in the background. He read 
his works repeatedly, imitated his tone, copied his sneer, 
quoted his words and idealized the man as the type of scientist 
par excellence. The broad arrogance of Tyndall provoked his 
disgust. It was too ostentatious; although he admired the 
scientific spirit which, as he thought, more than atoned for his 
conceited utterances. 

From all, however, he believed he had learned much, as 
indeed, he had; and like all apostates he became intolerant of 
Christian beliefs, as at present expounded, and which he had 
flung wholly aside towards the middle of his second year at 
the university, in order to become at once, a disciple, an 
apostle, and a missionary of evolution. “What had the world 
been dreaming of all these centuries? How was it possible 
that mankind had not stumbled on this palpable knowledge 
and scientific truth before? Now at all events that these 
truths had been learned, the sooner they were promulgated 
the better. Christian teaching was evidently absurd and 
childish in the light of the new gospel of science. Let it be 
cut down therefore without further delay. Why cumbereth 
it the ground?” Such were the watchwords which held him 
spellbound, and which made the new evangel of science and 
its preaching a sacred duty. He never paused to question, 
but went forward with all the zeal and ardor of a young 
neophyte engaged in a sacred cause. The knowledge and 
enlightenment which came to him he felt it a duty to extend 
to the whole world. This accounted, too, for his attacks from 
time to time on Christianity, and the bitterness of tone in 
which they were uttered. 

On the other hand it must be said that he had devoured 

• [25] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the entire doctrine so greedily and speedily, that there was 
danger of imperfect digesting of it. He was like one who for 
the first time has come upon a delightful variety of grape or 
peach. He ate gluttonously of the new scientific provender. 
It was to him a dish, captivating, appetizing, exquisite, de¬ 
licious, new, altogether to his taste. In his joy of discovery 
and pleasure of feasting his generous heart wanted all the 
world to taste of this spread banquet. It was in this way that 
he failed to digest the grateful food. He devoured greedily 
both because of the famished condition of his mind, as he 
supposed, and because of the tempting nature of the dish. 
In this way also he failed to detect not only the more concealed 
imperfections of the banquet, but even the obvious defects. 
In his enthusiasm and delight he believed he had reached the 
millenium. 

For Darwin’s work he had only the most exalted admi¬ 
ration. The conception of natural selection be held to be the 
highest point of grand generalization to which the human 
mind had as yet attained. It was more sublime than the 
sublimest poetry. It was more entrancing than any of the 
discoveries in the practical sciences. It distanced electricity 
in its various forms and varied applications. It was more 
than the electric spark, than telephony, than phonography. 
It was with him what Christians claimed for the scriptures 
— nothing short of divine inspiration — if there was such a 
thing as a divine existence from which inspiratioin could 
come. Rather — was it not nature’s own inspiration to na¬ 
ture’s most gifted and favored son? There was just one 
thing that could be at all classed with it — and that was 
Newton’s discovery of gravitation. There was one feature in 
which he thought Darwin remiss, however — he should have 
had the courage of his grand discovery (for discovery he 
regarded it) and extended it beyond the bounds of biological 
phenomena. That he did not do so he regarded as a weakness 
in the great leader and too great a concession to the old 

[26] 


THE EDWARDS —THE SON 


Judaical notions *of creation, which had imposed on the 
Christian world so long, and which should now be mercilessly 
flung aside with supreme scorn. “And yet” he sometimes 
thought with a sort of contemptuous pity, “these poor deluded 
Christians were not so much to blame after all. They took what 
was given them (just as he had taken them, unquestioningly); 
and it was not their fault after all that they had no genius of 
the Darwin order among them. 

This weakness in Darwin, as he regarded it, aroused in 
him an extraordinary admiration for the broad sweep of 
Herbert Spencer and Professor Haeckel, who were not satis¬ 
fied to stop at the boundary line of life but pushed the new 
doctrine of evolution far beyond the intention of its corypheus 
and extended it even to the inorganic world. It was while 
yet entranced — for no milder word would d-o justice to his 
state of mind — with the beauties of the new doctrine, that 
though yet a sophomore at the university, he was permitted to 
use the mammoth telescope in the observatory, to which it was 
a rare privilege to be admitted, and from which he descended 
in a mild form of intoxicated bliss. He had been drinking in 
deep draughts of science, and it had become like the ichor of 
the gods in his veins. Verily seeing was believing. Hitherto 
he had been taking the words and arguments and conclusions 
of others or scientific faith—on the word of science. It was 
true they were the “irrefragable conclusions of the men of 
science — men of whom the world was not worthy”—as he 
expressed it. But now he had beheld with his own eyes! He 
had seen — seen in wonder and astonishment — the most pro¬ 
found facts — the very beginning of things. He had seen the 
great spiral nebula in Andromeda and paltry words could do 
nothing like justice to his feelings. He had seen with his own 
eyes. Moses on the mountain, Peter on Thabor, some medieval 
saints might have had their transports — their ravishments; 
but what were these superstition-bom ecstacies to those of one 
flushed with the strong wine of scientific beholding, who had 

[ 2 7 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


actually looked on new worlds forming? And this was the 
origin of this earth of ours — of the universe! He had stood 
by the very dawn of creation and beheld new worlds forming 
— coming forth fresh from the Creator’s hands — but what 
wild, foolish words was he uttering in the delirium of his 
joy ? What old follies was he mingling with the newer — the 
diviner wisdom? Had he not seen a process more sublime, 
more worthy of nature, more worthy of science, than all the 
old exploded theories of creation ? Had not what he had seen 
thoroughly discredited the old wives’ tale completely? Not 
indeed that the La Place theory of itself had done the dis¬ 
crediting. No; that had left it intact. But the La Place 
theory supplemented by the Darwinian theory of evolution — 
but no; not even that; there was yet left a gap between the 
two. How nobly that gap had been bridged by Spencer and 
Haeckel by extending the Darwinian evolution to the inor¬ 
ganic world! Here was the thread complete. And he had 
just seen the beginnings! And then his splendid imagination 
came into play. He followed down the spiral gaseous mass of 
nebula from the time it was a faint cloud of luminosity flung 
off by the sun, and beheld it cooling and condensing and 
solidifying and hardening as it revolved about an axis of its 
own, at heavens knows what velocity; though why it should 
revolve, or why it should cool, or why it should solidify, he 
vainly asked himself — some day science would find this out 
too; it had already found out so many things. He likened it 
in his imagination to the molten flame that one sees in a 
foundry, only metallurgy had no parallel exactly for this. 
The revolving — the cooling — the condensing — the solidify¬ 
ing— the hardening had gone on, of course, for ages; who 
could count them? What a length of time it takes to make 
a world — a world which was said in stupidity and folly to 
have been made in six days! What a mind was that of La 
Place — worthy almost to he placed alongside of Darwin and 
Newton. Would he ever he able “to do something” as Darwin 


THE EDWARDS — THE SON 


had said so modestly of himself? And his mind followed the 
course of the revolutions of the spiral mass of nebula until in 
imagination he saw the crust forming still hot — hot as — 
Hades — just think of Hades crusted over — only there was 
no Hades — the vast molten mass of our earth, eight thousand 
miles through — only infinitely or at least indefinitely more 
before the condensation of its gases — and a thin film of 
coating forming on its exterior spherical surface. But why 
it broke off from the sun — 'or why it should revolve at all — 
or why it should have an axis to revolve around — or why a 
thousand other things — were all questions he could not 
answer just now; .science would, some day, answer them all. 
The thin coating thickens, but oh! through what eons of time 
it must pass before it does so noticeably; the thin seething mass 
becomes somewhat sodden; the whirling gas gains character 
and solidity — the film is now continuous — now it is a thin 
crust, but this crust, from the revolutions, gains on the molten 
mass within — gradually — gradually; eons still — and still 
eons — needed for the work. It cools. It is cooling — at first 
sl-owly, but there is a new look about it — the appearance is 
changing, changing, changing. By and by it is so changed 
that a fungous growth of excrescence appears. Life! It is 
life! Where did it come from ? No matter. Science will 
find that out, too, some day. It grows more verdant. It 
differentiates itself. Now it is grass! — trees! — flowers! — 
where did all these come from? It is life! The mountains 
and valleys might — perhaps — be accounted for; but how 
account for these? Whence came they? Whence the power 
of life? A puzzle! Yes; but science will find all that out in 
good time too; trust to it. And then, later when the proper 
stage has arrived, sentient beings! And then man! What a 
dream! All from this little, comparatively speaking, mass of 
gaseous nebula broken and flung off from the blazing sun. 
Surely this was creation out-creationed. All this teeming life 
and world from a fragment of broken nebula! Aladdin with 

[29] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


his wonderful lamp is outrivalled by the daily processes which 
we see all about us if we only will open our eyes. But what 
ages and periods, and epochs, and eons upon eons, it all takes ! 
And what changes the surfaces of the globe has undergone 
during all these eons that were endless, and yet that had an 
end,- for here we are after all, men and women rational 
creatures crowning the sentient even as the sentient crowned 
the mere organic, and as the organic crowned the inorganic; 
though why we should be here at all, or why this long, endless 
preparation for us, through all these endless eons; or where 
we were when the process was going on, or where life was; or 
where we were when the nebula began to get loose on the 
surface of the sun’s fiery ball, and finally broke loose because 
it was not able to hang on, so to speak; or where we were 
when the spiral nebula began to revolve around its own axis 
and set up as an independent world of gas, or where life was 
— these were things that no man could find out; though trust 
to science to discover them all some day. Here we are now 
standing on this solid sphere with the sleeping fires in its 
bosom, upon which the crust was slowly but surely encroach¬ 
ing, though the why and the wherefore of it all would be 
known only some day when a new Darwin arose. 

George did not perplex himself greatly about these prob¬ 
lems. Physical science was not to be questioned. All must 
be taken on scientific faith; and in this glorious faith George, 
in those days, passed through all the stages of scientific intoxi¬ 
cation. The raptures which the biographers relate of the 
medieval saints were tame in comparison with those of his 
enraptured mind; for his very soul was a-thirst for knowledge, 
and he was, as he fondly believed, drinking it in in deep 
draughts. 

When, one day, one of his companions ventured to 
express doubts about the value of modern scientific theories 
and to question the validity of many scientific conclusions, 
deduced frequently, as they are, from merely hypothetical 

[3o] 


THE EDWARDS — THE SON 


premises, a flush of anger came to George’s cheeks as he said: 
“Why, who can doubt the formation of this globe from 
nebula ? Any man can see for himself. Why the worlds are 
forming up there now. I have seen them with my own eyes. ’ ’ 

Again on another occasion, when the same companion 
questioned the wisdom of pursuing such speculations or pin¬ 
ning too much faith to them, giving as his reason, the neces¬ 
sary limitations of our knowledge and our powers, George 
grew exceeding wroth. 

“Do you suppose’’ his friend, Anthony Pembroke, inno¬ 
cently asked, “that a man of himself can ever fathom the 
mystery of the universe?” 

“Fathom it!”, cried George, as if struck by a blow on 
the face. “Has not man already fathomed it? Do you 
suppose the present solution does not account for things?” 

“It might account for a few things, perhaps; but it does 
not account for those things; and the things which it does not 
account for are precisely the things the world is anxious to 
know about — which should be accounted for,” said the 
other, surprised at his enthusiasms. 

“I grant there are still a few things which modern 
progress has not yet reached,” replied George slightly dis¬ 
concerted ; 11 but they will all come in due time. ’ ’ 

His companion concluded that such scientific faith was 
not to be found in all scientific Israel; and that it was un¬ 
profitable to pursue the subject at least until the enthusiasm 
subsided to the normal point. 

When George had finished his course at the university 
he had already made such a reputation as a scientist, and 
what was more as an enthusiast on the subject of science, that 
the faculty and management of the institution decided that 
he would be an acquisition to the professorial staff; and he 
was at once assigned to the chair of biology which happened 
to be then vacant. He at once became regular lecturer on the 
subject in the university, and soon the students were flocking 

[31] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


to his lectures. Biology had hitherto been a subject from 
which the students shrank; but with George’s enthusiasm and 
eloquence in the pulpit the seats were soon filled to over¬ 
flowing. The doctrine of development in his hands became 
instinct with new life. He even succeeded admirably in 
many new experiments, such, for instance, as the section 
making and hardening in embryology; and in one instance, 
had so succeeded in accomplishing a simplifying process in 
this work — a matter frequently attempted in vain by his 
old professor Ayaccio — that the old man was overjoyed and 
embracing George with emotion said: “I have so loved science 
all my life that this touches my very heart.” 

George had hardly been installed in his professorial 
chair when he turned his thoughts towards a great project 
which had long occupied his mind. He had so great a thirst 
for knowledge, that he not only was acquainted with the 
practical points in his own specialty, but he was well ac¬ 
quainted with the history, development and progress of all 
the cognate sciences. 

One day when he had been reading for the third time 
Whewell’s History of the Inductive Sciences, he thought 
what a splendid work this industrious clergyman had done 
for succeeding generations in collecting the facts and writing 
the history of scientific development. But thought he, “What 
a period Whewell covers and how meager the output of science 
throughout the whole scientific world which Whewell had to 
record. The strides of science since Whewell’s day have been 
gigantic. If only another Whewell would arise and record the 
history of this glorious epoch. The output of the scientific 
world since Whewell’s day would have swelled Whewell’s 
three volumes into thirty or perhaps three hundred. Why 
could not Whewell’s work be supplemented by such a history? 
It was a dream with him even while yet an undergraduate, 
and he frequently had mentioned the matter to his friend' 

[32] 


THE EDWARDS —THE SON 


Anthony Pembroke, who had returned for a post graduate 
course in scientific chemistry. 

“Why” said Anthony to him, one day, as they were 
seated under their favorite oak on the campus, and George 
had broached the subject for the hundredth time; “why not 
take the work in hand yourself? Few are better equipped 
for the task. It is in line with your work and you are in 
love with the subject.” 

“It certainly would be a labor of love; but it would be 
triple brassbound presumption in me to even think of under¬ 
taking it,” replied George, to whom the idea of authorship 
had never suggested itself. 

“Nevertheless no one could do it better.” 

The idea germinated in George’s brain, and the more he 
thought about it, the more he liked it. Soon it became the 
dream of his life — the goal of his ambition, and when later 
he was called to the chair of biology, the faculty was unani¬ 
mous in its opinion that George should undertake the work. 
It would be the work par excellence of the day. So much so 
indeed did they regard it that it was determined to under¬ 
take it as a university enterprise, and the whole matter was 
given over in charge to George. It was to be his work and 
the university was to be its patron and sponsor. The uni¬ 
versity library was well stocked with original works and 
works of reference. It could procure the original manu¬ 
scripts and other necessary matter so that the field should be 
fully covered. The enthusiasm reached even to the students 
and many of them volunteered to look up references and 
verify data. Some of the professors would even like to have 
become associates in the gigantic labor. The head of each 
department of science was to act as censor of the volumes 
dealing with the subjects which were his specialty and finally 
it was decided that the entire faculty should do what it 
could to advance the vast enterprise. The work was to be 
a lasting monument to a preeminently scientific age, to the 

[ 33 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


university, to its author. Such an enterprise, vast, volu¬ 
minous, learned, authentic, wholly trust-worthy on every 
point could not fail to give a prestige to the university far 
above its fellows. 

And it was the unanimous belief that the gigantic under¬ 
taking was in the proper hands. With a well-appointed corps 
of assistants — properly drilled there was no doubt of its 
successful accomplishment. There was, it is true, some envy 
on the part of one or two of the older members of the 
professorial staff in the scientific department, on seeing so 
young a man selected for so vast an enterprise; but George’s 
old friend, Agaccio, silenced all opposition. The work cer¬ 
tainly would entail immense labor and research; but George 
was promised the selection of his large corps of assistants. 
The cup of his happiness was full. He was embarked on a 
great scientific work of far-reaching and enduring historical 
importance. He was going to leave to posterity a monument 
not of himself but of the science he so dearly loved. He was 
going to be of real use to the special branch of knowledge 
which he had chosen for his life work not only, but to all 
science and all future history, as well. His success in its 
accomplishment is the raison d’etre of these pages. 


[34] 


CHAPTER IV 


Mother and Son 

I N ALL this radiant basking in the sunshine of science 
there was just one dark cloud. The delicious music to 
which his life was at this time attuned was from time to 
time conscious of one harshly jarring chord. 

George was a most affectionate son. His mother doted 
on him with all the affection of a great heart. Since his 
father’s death, some years before, George’s life was the axis 
around which all of hers revolved. Her whole soul was 
centred in the boy. And he reciprocated her affection. His 
strong athletic frame, like that of his father; his clear and 
piercing eye which was yet as tender as that of a woman in 
its glance of affection; his broad intellectual brow — all 
were something for a mother to be proud of; but she knew 
there was a treasure richer than all these in the heart which 
was so sterling and true, so honest and loving, so noble, 
brave, courageous. He certainly loved his mother in turn. 
It was the thought, therefore, of the effect upon her of his 
lapse from religion, that troubled him. What would she 
think? How would she regard his religion? Would she 
cast him off altogether? Would she disown him? But no, 
his heart told him she would cling to him even in the fires of 
hell if need be. It pained him to pain her. But his duty 
was plain and imperative; and duty said he must follow his 
intellect. He had already pained her by failing to become 
a priest as she had ardently wished; but she had respected 
his conscientious scruples, and there were no reproaches — 
not even remonstrance. What would be the consequence 

[35] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


now? It was the same conscientiousness that made him re¬ 
nounce the priesthood, for which he did not feel himself 
fitted, that now caused him to abandon his religion in which 
he could no longer believe. He did not, it is true, ask him¬ 
self whether he had weighed the reasons carefully which 
he supposed militated so strongly against his faith. He did 
not deem it necessary to weigh them. The authority of the 
great men of science was sufficient for him. He overlooked 
the important fact that those who decried the folly of 
following authority in matters of religion, had no hesitation, 

— strange to say — in following authority blindly in 
matters of science — and against religion. All this George 
overlooked — or else artfully concealed from himself. The 
former certainly it must have been for sham he utterly 
detested. His belief that he eould not conscientiously re¬ 
tain his faith was strangely true — in his present state of 
mind. He would rather die than play the hypocrite and 
pretend to believe what his intellect compelled him — so he 
thought — to scornfully reject. His mother would not, it was 
true, rise to a full comprehension of the lofty reasons that 
compelled him to fling off the old wornout beliefs. It had 
hardly yet entered woman’s province to discuss the merits 
of Darwinism or the havoc made by the higher criticism. 
Nursed in faith and piety as his mother had been, it would 
be unreasonable to suppose that she could at once appreciate 
the lofty motives that led him to abandon a faith which his 
intellect despised. Yes! Pain his mother it certainly would; 
but here was a case where two supreme duties clashed and 
he did not hesitate for a moment as to his choice. There was 
only one which he could follow without being a traitor to 
truth — and truth he firmly believed it to be. Let the con¬ 
sequences be what they may he must not sacrifice principle 

— no — not even for a mother’s love, or to save his mother 
pain. 

In spite of all this reasoning by which he so successfully 

[36] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


imposed upon himself, his heart was heavy when he 
thought of her. His mother had, of course, been long aware 
of his change. She had frequently talked the matter over 
with him, begged, implored, entreated, prayed. She remon¬ 
strated with all the energy and earnestness of which she was 
capable; but when, as he supposed, the intellect pointed out 
the path unmistakably, his determined will became in¬ 
flexible. It was the conviction that all her remonstrances 
were vain that was now weighing so heavily on her frail 
life. George’s heart was heavy too when he learned of her 
condition and it told him moreover that he was the cause. 
Had there been an altar to science George would undoubtedly 
have gone before it — as Rose had bent herself before the 
altar of religion — in resignation — and told the scientific 
deity what sacrifices he was making for its sake — how he 
was trampling on the heart of at least one noble and brave 
woman; but he felt all the same that it was the hearts of 
others he was immolating and that while he was the sacrifi¬ 
cial priest he was by no means the sacrificial victim. He 
wished it otherwise, doubtless. Gladly he would have been 
the sufferer; but the inexorable law of circumstances ren¬ 
dered this impossible. So there was nothing left but, tyrant¬ 
like, to strike the blow, inflict the wound, and trust to time 
for its healing. Well might he have said: Sweet mistress, 
science! How cruel — Oh ! how cruel are your commands ! 
But then, he thought, it was not science; it was honor; it was 
duty; it was truth — which he was obeying. And what of 
Rose ? This was a thought which he persistently — and by 
main forcing of his will — kept in the background and left 
to the future. 

It was the conviction of the part which he had in her 
present critical condition that led George to seek his mother 
at the present juncture, and left him bending at the side 
of her sick couch. 

As he bent in the attitude of filial piety and she stroked 

[37] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


his shining hair, the fulness of a mother’s love went out un¬ 
restrained to her darling child. She seemed to have for¬ 
gotten everything in the joy of seeing him by her side. 
Gradually, however, came back the desolate feeling to her 
heart and the stunning sense that this her son was become 
an enemy of religion. After the first transport was over and 
he had arisen to his feet, she held him back from her to 
contemplate him half in love, half in terror. She was 
fascinated by the splendid presence and the handsome face 
on which stability of character was now so plainly stamped; 
but she shuddered as she thought that in the handsome 
presence of her son she was beholding an unnatural monster 
— no other name could express what to her it meant to 
abandon his religion and then to assail it. Still such an 
expression of suffering had come into his face, too, that a 
wild hope sprang up for a moment in her breast that he 
might, perhaps, be repentant. 

“Is my poor prodigal returned at last?”, she whispered 
softly in an agony of doubt. 

“Oh! don’t, mother; mother, don’t”, he groaned in 
anguish. The thought of having kindled hopes which he 
must extinguish was torture. 

“What?” she shrieked in dismay. “Is there then no 
prayer for forgiveness?” 

“Oh! yes, mother; forgive me. Forgive me, I entreat 
you. I have embittered your life; perhaps, broken your 
heart.” 

“Do not ask forgiveness of me; ask it of God whom you 
have outraged. You know that if you ask pardon of Him 
you have mine without the asking.” 

“Mother; there is no God!”, he hoarsely whispered — 
“at least there is none in the sense that I can sin against 
him. ’ ’ 

“Forbear, my son! Forbear your blasphemies!” she 
shrieked in utter horror. “Spare your broken-hearted 

[ 38 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


mother at least the agony of being forced to listen to the 
atheist, whom she has suckled at her breast, like a monster 
breathing forth his hatred of God! Oh ! Oh ! that I should 
have given birth to a child destined to wear the brand of 
Cain — one cursed and abhorred of heaven ! Oh ! woe ! woe! 
What misery is mine!” 

“I crave your pardon, mother,” he cried in an agony of 
grief. His straightforwardness had hurried him into the 
expression of opinions which he felt must deeply wound her 
maternal heart. He seemed to himself the monster which 
she said he was. His candor urged him into an attempt to 
justify himself and thus betrayed him into the fatal mistake. 

She made no attempt at reply. She neither rocked nor 
swayed after the fashion of some women in a grief that is 
inexpressible. She sat bolt upright looking straight before 
her as if dazed — bewildered. Her eyes were fixed. She 
seemed not to regard his presence. The full consequences of 
his awful declaration seemed to have come down upon her 
in all their force and she was reviewing them in utter 
despair. 

“Her son no longer! How could that'monster be her 
child ? Oh ! what bitterness! Her heart’s idol an apostate ! 
— a renegade! — the ban of the church’s dread censure upon 
him — stamping the soul of her child with the brand of 
hell! And the church forced to take this step for her own 
protection — against him — its scourge ! And then — oh ! 
agony of agonies! No hope beyond the grave either! Other 
mothers could have hope in another world — but even this 
was denied her! It seemed as if her soul was a Sahara — an 
arid waste. ‘My God! My God! Why hast Thou forsaken 
me!’ ” Never had she dreamed of such a complete sense of 
utter abandonment. 

“I have but expressed the convictions of my reason” he 
pleaded softly — but she heard him not. “You would not 
wish me to be at variance with my reason — to say one 

[ 39 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


thing and believe another—. You, yourself have always 
instructed me to be faithful to truth. Modern ideas have 
changed regarding what is to be thought of certain be¬ 
liefs long supposed to be truth. The intellectual world to¬ 
day has outgrown Christianity. We can not fly in the face 
of the facts of science. The results of modern research have 
shown that the foundations on which Christianity rested are 
blasted for ever. The world has come to a turning-point in 
its belief in religious matters.” 

He spoke softly, pleadingly, almost choked with grief 
at the pain he was inflicting on one he loved so dearly. She 
listened as one in a dream, or as though she had forgotten 
what it was that made the jarring feeling in her thoughts. 
Occasionally, however, a word caught her attention, though 
she little heeded it — “modern thought” — and “the facts 
of science” — and “foundations of religion false,” and she 
made a slight effort to arouse herself. He on his part was 
as keenly anguished at the loss of his mother’s affection as 
she was at his apostasy, and in consequence lost sight of all 
discretion in his attempts to retain it and justify himself in 
her estimation. In his confused state of feeling he lost 
sight of the fact that the arguments by which he sought to 
justify himself in her eyes were the very ones which kept 
them sundered so hopelessly, keeping constantly before her, 
as they did, the greatness of her son’s apostasy. 

Mistaking the nature of her silence he proceeded. 

“We are scaling the mountain peaks of knowledge,” 
he continued; “and from their lofty heights we are getting 
correct views of the position, which up to the present we 
have been occupying. Now they look dim and distant and 
absolutely unattainable. But we have got them into true per¬ 
spective — in proper relation with their whole environment; 
and we are able to estimate them as a part of the great 
whole and assign to them their proper historical value. We 
have learned their true bearing, their significance, their real 

[ 40 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


importance. There is a change in the order of things. The 
world of intellect rejects the Christian creed. The world 
looks at things differently now from the way in which it 
viewed them when you were a child. The day will come when 
you, too, will regard your former beliefs as superstitions, — 
as they really are. ” 

“Heaven forbid! But no ; the danger is slight. I would 
freely give my life for religion — aye ten thousand lives did 
I have them.” — she was calmer now — “Oh! no; no,” she 
added, while a heavenly radiance seemed to light up her 
features as with the courage and heroism of the Mother of 
the Maccabees — * ‘ Oh! no. Science can not drive religion 
out of the human heart — not out of a poor mother’s heart. 
I know little about the results of what is called modern 
thought or what you mean by modern progress, as you term 
it; but I do know the experiences which have come into my 
own poor life — which have been realities in my own poor 
heart and soul — and were there nothing else in the world 
to convince me that a good God — a Divine beneficent Provi¬ 
dence — watches over poor helpless humanity, and weighs 
our needs and wants, and minsters to them, this would con¬ 
vince me beyond all question.” 

She paused slightly as if for breath; but in reality re¬ 
calling the experiences which she was relating. George glad 
to have her in such quiet mood after her frantic grief made 
no attempt to interrupt her and she continued. 

“I have had — unworthy though I am — I have had 
moments of rapture in His Divine presence. Perhaps they 
were given me, like the vision on Thabor to Peter, James 
and John to sustain me in the hour of bitter trial through 
which I am now passing. I have stood within the sanctuary 
of His Divine presence, and if I have not felt the touch of 
His Divine hand upon my head I have felt in my 
soul the touch of His peace, of His grace, of the kingdom of 
His love — a bliss which no man can understand who has 

[4i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


not felt it within the range *of his own experience. In the 
hour of temptation, as well as the hour when peace and joy 
filled my soul, I have felt the Divine presence, which, though, 
all the world should contradict, would still tell me that there 
is a God who loves men. No! No! Personal experiences, 
too, must be reckoned with. They will ever form a mighty 
bulwark around religious faith. Were there nothing else to 
exclude atheism and prevent it from obliterating from the 
heart of man, the belief in a personal God, they would 
conquer. I have had moments which I would not exchange 
for the gold of the Indies, unworthy as I am. The many 
experiences of mj r life — to say nothing of the assurances of 
religion at all — have made manifest that there is a world 
which we do not see, but which is, nevertheless, more real than 
that which we see. Yes; I have been on my Thabor, in my 
holy communions, when the glory of heaven has filled this 
poor vessel of clay almost to its undoing, and its measure 
has not been able to compass all the joy and rapture of 
God’s love. I have tasted and felt somewhat of the bliss of 
St. Francis Xavier or the rapture of St. Philip Neri.” 

And George recalled, not without a certain awe, marvels 
of his boyhood and youth when he had gazed with awe and 
wonder at the light that shone on his mother’s face, especially 
on the days on which she received holy communion. Was it 
the rapture that then pervaded her soul that she now meant 
when she spoke of her personal experiences? George had 
never heard her speak of these things before. With Catholics 
they were things not to be mentioned even to the dearest 
friend; and Mrs. Edwards reference to them was called for 
by the extraordinary circumstance of the situation. But they 
were not uncommon in the lives of the saints in the olden 
times — and George’s mother was a saint, as he said, if there 
was ever such a human being on earth. 

As he stood by the bed of his almost dying mother, he 
felt a surging wave of repulsion rising within him for the 

[ 42 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


first time against his scientific beliefs. What did they all 
amount to in the presence of this dying woman — his own 
mother — this human soul and its individual experiences ■— 
its eternal hopes and longings! Of what value were they all 
to him now in the presence of this calamity which they had 
superinduced ? The glories of science, the splendor of human 
progress, the magnificence and grandeur of the scientific out* 
look — how poor and paltry, how shrunken and shrivelled, 
and shabby and mean, earthly and trifling, they all seemed 
to him now! He had despised human emotion before — 
scoffed at all thought of regarding it seriously or as worthy 
of the consideration of a serious man — and here, now, in 
the presence of it, the bottom seemed suddenly to fall out of 
his scientific glory — all his scientific and rational methods. 
Here in the presence of this spark of immortality lighting up 
all the hills and valleys of human knowledge what did the 
glories of science amount to ? The immortal reason — was 
it going to live? The unseen world — would it soon become 
the reality for her? Verily the bed of death shed a new light 
on the value of scientific wisdom. 

And was it not, after all true ? — what his mother had 
just said ? The individual experience was a commodity which 
could not be lightty pushed aside; it was a consideration which 
must also be dealt with. In the last analysis, who could tell 
what passes between the individual soul and its God? Who 
would dare to gainsay the reality of these experiences? 
They were indeed arguments which were powerless with the 
rest of mankind and appealed only to each individual soul as 
so many isolated entities or individuals; hut within the 
fortress of that individuality, within the citadel of that 
entity, they were impregnable. No fact of science could war 
successfully against them or dislodge them. They were not 
accumulative it was true, and yet in the early church they 
were most accumulative and were often the guiding light and 
the only one of many persons to the Christian faith. And 

[ 43 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


so this proud scion of a scientific age felt himself helpless and 
powerless — overwhelmed and defeated by the very argument 
he most despised. He knew that the church never resorted 
to argumentation of this class, that a theologian would smile 
at one who should have recourse to them, that the church 
discouraged them as tending to lead to hallucination and 
fanaticism, that the theologians would be apt to take his 
view of these things; and yet, here he felt himself powerless 
against the experiences and the logic of an individual soul 
even before he reached the solid and real warfare of the church 
itself. Yes. He felt it. This was one reason why religion 
could not as he had foolishly supposed, be banished from the 
world as long as human experience remained. 

But Mrs. Edwards was not yet contented. Perhaps she 
had noticed the effect of her words upon George; or, perhaps 
she thought she would appeal to him for the last time. She 
returned to the subject when she had recovered her strength. 

“Far be it from me” she resumed, in a voice, at first 
scarcely audible, “to boast of these heavenly privileges with 
which my sweet Saviour has vouchsafed to illumine this 
wretched vessel of clay; but experiences they were, and facts 
they were, in a science of which your science takes no account 
— nevertheless they are fully as real. I am not now dealing 
with delusions. Neither am I dealing with theories, or hypoth¬ 
eses, or assumptions, or conjectures, as your science deals. I 
am speaking of facts — facts of experience — within the 
limits of my own individual experience, it is true; but others 
also have had theirs. Certainly the experience of one soul 
can not influence another or be accepted by it as argument. 
From their ve^ nature, being isolated they do not coalesce; 
but I believe that if you will investigate that great unexplored 
region of human experience you will find some things which 
will put your science and its conclusions to the blush — within 
that large realm of individual experience in which the indi¬ 
vidual soul communes with its Creator and Redeemer, you 

[ 44 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


will find a terra incognita of absolute, real, positive knowledge 
and experience far outstripping the facts of the world of 
physical science. If these are admitted into the hitherto in¬ 
scrutable arcana which have at last yielded to your research, 
the experience of millions of souls who sought only the will 
of their Maker can put your science to the blush so rich in its 
fauna and flora, if I may so put it, buried in the individual 
heart and soul.” 

George was staggered by this direct logical appeal, all 
the more for the reason that his own observation — when he 
had not yet thought of observation at all — confirmed her 
words. But he put aside instantly what he regarded as his 
weakness, as he thought: “What would Professor Huxley 
think of such weakness?” The thought fell upon him like 
a blight. He winced as he fancied the infinite scorn, the 
scathing irony and the biting sarcasm with which men like 
Huxley would make merry over this new science of old wives’ 
superstitions. 

Still he felt himself pursued — haunted — by the image 
of his mother which was among the most vivid of his recollec¬ 
tions; and one or two remarkable pictures stood out forcibly 
against the background of memory — pictures which he had 
seen with his own eyes, too, when his mother w r as wrapt in her 
fervent devotions, little dreaming that her prying son — even 
then the observing and inquisitive scientist — was intently 
studying her features and making note of the startling 
phenomena. 

There was much, he was forced to acknowledge to himself, 
in what she had said. There was a region of human experience 
which science had not taken the pains to investigate — nay 
had wholly ignored — yea, even scorned and contemned. And 
yet the phenomena were (there—possibly, purely psychological 
in character — but there surely and unquestionably. Was it 
not infinitely better that science should probe this region — 
explore it thoroughly — search Jerusalem with lamps, than 

[ 45 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


that it should go on foolishly ignoring it? He would urge 
upon his colleagues the importance and even necessity of 
investigating here also. Was it not high time for them to 
face everything, instead of spurning it? Yes. He would, 
this very evening, bring before his friend, Professor Knowseur 
the necessity of accounting for these things. But then the 
cold sneer on the face of the Doctor and the proud scorn on 
the face and in the voice of Professor Heifel rose up before 
his mind and his heart failed him. And yet — and yet — he 
could not but feel that science was but shunning its duty when 
it failed to investigate here. Was it cowardice on the part 
of science, concealed beneath the mask of scorn ? 

They had sat in silence for some time, as George had, in 
his reverie made no reply to his mother. Presently she moved 
quietly — perhaps, mistaking his silence and extended her 
hand pleadingly towards him. 

“My son; you will break with this scientific delusion 
(how the words struck him! Precisely the language science 
was using about religion!) you will humble your pride and 
once more bend your knees before your God.” 

“Mother” he said softly and quietly, “you would not 
have me be untrue to my convictions. Your counsel — which 
I have held sacred always — was that I should cherish truth, 
honor, principle. I could not comply with your present wish 
without being false to your teaching. ’ ? 

‘ ‘ Alas! alas! how the evil one can pervert truth and dress 
up falsehood in its garb! Little did I think when I imprinted 
on your young mind a love of truth and principle and honor, 
that the angel of darkness would use my own sacred weapon 
against myself and wrest from my grasp the heart of my 
child.” 

“No. No,” he vehemently protested. “My heart can 
never be torn from you. Though my intellect may be forced 
to reject your faith, my heart can never be false to your love.” 

[ 46 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


“My faith is just as true as my love. Why is your intel¬ 
lect not as faithful as your heart?” 

He shook his head sorrowfully. 

“The world has moved so rapidly within the last half 
century that in knowledge and wisdom and grasp of truth 
we are centuries in advance of where the world stood fifty 
years ago. Love, however, is eternal — it knows no change.” 

“Not so;” she replied with animation. “With -the 
changing follies of science, even love has been lifted from its 
moorings. Nay rather, what has changed so much as love? 
And what is responsible ? What but the lax and wild notions 
brought into the world by a vain science ?—this science that 
uproots everything and drives out knowledge of God and 
man’s destiny?” 

He winced perceptibly. His mother’s words might some¬ 
times be wide of the real mark; but the mark itself she 
seldom failed to bring clearly into view and make him uneasy. 

“What has caused the husband to be false to the wife? 
What has given us these lax notions about the marriage tie, 
but the lax notions we have about God and man’s duty and 
destiny? What is daily ruining homes and wrecking family 
happiness? What is leaving little children worse than or¬ 
phans? What is making the sweet and sacred names of 
father and mother a mockery and a by-word in so many homes 
and to so many children ? What but the loss of faith in love 
which has gone hand in hand with the loss of faith in re¬ 
ligion? The failure of the truth in love which comes as the 
consequence of the loss of truth in the intellect. Darkness 
pursues darkness. Falsehood follows falsehood. Let those 
who are in the propaganda of destruction beware,” — and 
raising herself on her pillows, she raised her hand oracularly 
and looked like a pythoness. 

“The connection is, I fear, as close as you say. It is one 
of the deplorable consequences which seems to follow 

[ 47 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


unnecessarily in the wake of scientific knowledge. How it is 
I know not.” 

“Because the knowledge is false” she replied in a breath; 
“or most of it is false and the remainder is illegitimate 
deduction. It is the knowledge and wisdom which drove the 
first pair from paradise: ‘Ye shall be as gods* with its atten¬ 
dant curse. We attempt to know what in the inscrutable 
designs of Providence we can not know and then we turn 
aside from the knowledge which is legitimate and attainable, 
and which alone can be of any value to us, to grasp the 
unattainable and what we can not fathom. Who can ever 
arrive at certainty about this universe unless taught of God ? ’ ’ 

A smile, half-contemptuous, formed upon his lips at the 
conceit, as he regarded it, of a higher power teaching us 
anything about the universe. 

“The teaching which is said to have come from God is, 
however, flatly contradicted by the teachings of science.” 

But like a flash she replied: “Has science reached the 
last word? Has it discovered everything? Does it under¬ 
stand the meaning — the true meaning — leaving no room for 
guesswork — of what it has discovered ? Are its teachings 
certain? If so then I am ready to listen to you and what 
your science has to say. If not, then in the name of heaven, 
in the name of honesty, in the name of truth, let it be silent.” 

And the proud son of science quailed before the irre¬ 
fragable argument. This poor woman with death on her trail 
and without laying great claim to intellectuality had cut the 
verjr ground from under the feet of science even in the 
moment of its proud boast. His boastings were silenced. 

“Little did I dream” she pursued, “that truth could 
be thus wrested from its foundations — that such a perversion 
of truth could reign in man’s intellect — that half-knowledge, 
and guess, and surmise, and assumption, and conjecture 
should ever undertake to masquerade in the guise of truth — 

[ 48 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 

that it should dare presume to do it —. I have been told by 
those who know, that science is unfair to religion, that it is 
unfair to truth; that it cries out vociferously, ‘Truth, truth’ 
when there is no truth — nothing but mere surmise; that it 
decries and denounces religion for adopting what it calls 
methods that are unscientific, and then that it goes straight¬ 
way and adopts, in science, the very methods which it decries 
in religion; that more credulity is lavished on so-called scien¬ 
tific truth than the votaries of religion spend upon all the 
articles of Christian belief. I know not what your Darwin’s 
hypothesis is, nor what your nebular hypothesis is, nor by 
what proofs they are supported; but I challenge you, my son, 
to make an act of faith in them with the same confidence and 
assurance of truth that I can make an act — of faith in the 
Real Presence of our Divine Lord in the Holy Eucharist, and 
yet the Real Presence is one of the articles of Christian faith, 
which are taken wholly on pure religious faith; that faith, 
however, being first founded on strongest reason. And if 
you can not — which is certain — why, then, have the hardi¬ 
hood to call your fruitless guesses science? Is not science 
altogether a misnomer ? Be honest then and — like religion 
— where you have only faith or hardly faith, call it honestly 
like men, faith and not science. It is evidently nothing more. 
All modern science, speculative science — is nothing more 
than mere hypocrisy. 

She paused more for breath than for a reply; but George 
who felt the force of this woman’s — mere woman’s — logic; 
and what was more, found it unanswerable, somewhat shame¬ 
faced that science had not furnished him with an adequate 
reply, could only make an act of faith internally in Darwin, 
Huxley & Co., while saying to himself mentally, ‘ ‘ Surely these 
men knew and could give a satisfactory answer. The honor 
of science demanded, however, that he should make some 
answer. 

[49] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“Much in science must indeed, be admitted to be con¬ 
jecture and hypothesis; but such remarkably sharp hypoth¬ 
esis that they are tantamount to truth/’ was his answer. 

“And you call this science! You call hypothesis truth 

— and exact a blind faith in it while you malign religion for 
doing far less. The whole it seems to me is nothing more 
or less than intellectual pride seeking intellectual supremacy, 
without anything to justify its absurd claims and hollow pre¬ 
tensions. ’ ’ 

“No mother; it is the grandeur of the intellectual world 
of knowledge on which the twentieth century is brightly 
dawning.” 

“Alas! alas! and this is the bright intellect which was 
once my pride. This is the intellectual glory of my son, to 
which I looked forward with, perhaps, too much confidence. 
Alas! there is little doubt that I have sinned in my pride 
and hope in my boy — the marvels he was going to accom¬ 
plish for God, for religion, for humanity—and now through 
that by which I have sinned by that I am punished — a just 
retribution,” — and her head sank before her. “Oh! what 
a fall was there! God now permits me to be punished 
through the aberrations of that intellect — that same intel¬ 
lect — in its enfeeblement and folly. But I shall storm 
heaven. I shall expiate my presumption. You, you, my son, 
my foolish, erring son, you will one day return to your faith 
in God and Jesus Christ.” Then by a sudden effort almost 
superhuman in her weak condition, she arose from her chair 
and stood erect, then flung her emaciated form on her knees, 
raised her outstretched hands and eyes to heaven a picture of 
supplication and entreaty that long haunted George’s memory 

— and in a voice intense with emotion and strong with the 
strength of her devotion and faith, cried, ‘ ‘ Oh, God! Lord 
of heaven and earth! Restore my child — my son, my son, 
my erring son — not to my arms, but to Thine own and to 
the bosom of Thy Church. Demand of me any sacrifice. Let 

[ 50 ] 


THE MOTHER AND SON 


me live and suffer, or let me die — it is all one. But spare! 
Oh, spare my child. I immolate my heart, my will, my every 
wish and thought, my very life — aye all the merits which 
perchance I may have laid in heaven — only let my child be 
restored to Thee. Strike, Lord! Smite Thy servant; but 
spare my son; restore my child. ’ ’ 

As she knelt with her extended hands half raised to 
heaven and her fixed gaze looking upwards she appeared the 
living embodiment of sacrifice and self-immolation, and at the 
close of her supplication she bowed her head and sank upon 
the floor as if the victim had been immolated — the sacrifice 
completed. She permitted George to lift her back gently to 
the chair and arrange her in her former position. It seemed 
as though peace and tranquillity had been restored to her 
mind; as if she had had assurance that her sacrifice was 
accepted — her prayer heard. Heaven, she knew, would not 
fail to fulfil its part and she had faithfully fulfilled hers. 
The strange calm on her face and in her manner, for she said 
nothing, seemed to show that peace was in her soul. In her 
voice, in her manner, in her pleading petition during her 
prayer, in her whole attitude might be read the confident 
assurance that heaven would accept her sacrifice and grant 
her prayer. The serenity of her countenance now seemed 
to warrant an internal assurance of all this. It was all the 
more easy therefore for George, the object of all this emotion 
— and anguish, to remain quiet and passive. In fact, be¬ 
wilderment, consternation, stupefaction seemed to lay hold of 
him; and when she held out her hand to him, like one in a 
dream he kissed it in silence. He did not speak. He was too 
full for speech. But she whispered, as though she were a 
prophetess “All will be well.” And when he replied, in a 
whisper also, “Yes, mother,” hardly knowing what he said 
or meant, she corrected him “But not during my time here. 
But all will be w r ell.” 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


She was evidently complete^ exhausted and George rang 
for the nurse, slid his arm quietly about her neck and kissed her 
gently upon the cheek, and when the nurse entered, softly 
left the room. 


[ 52 ] 


CHAPTER Y 


Rose 

I T SEEMED to George that a great gulf had opened 
suddenly between himself and his mother — or, more 
properly speaking, as sometimes happens in dreams, 
he seemed to stand riveted where he was, while she had 
suddenly, by some unknown power, been transported into 
some far off, mysterious realm whose dimensions were unlike 
anything in his experience, which were not exactly 
those of length, breadth or depth, and which impressed him 
as ethereal and unearthly. In spite of all his scepticism and 
lack of faith he could not shake off the feeling of reverence 
— almost awe — which the interview left behind as the 
predominant feeling. His mother seemed to him to have 
flown into another and transcendant realm whither he could 
not follow her as if she had been wafted on angels’ wings 
(as he used to think of angels before the days of the scep¬ 
ticism) away from mundane things into a spiritual realm of 
exceeding beauty; and the bond of flesh between them 
seemed to have snapped asunder. Yet he was not dreaming. 
He was fully awake. Nevertheless he could not shake off 
the strange feeling. He staggered — almost fell — as if he 
had been dropped from an immense height; but managed 
somehow to fall safely on his feet, and across his life the 
sun of science and the glow of his scientific pursuits seemed 
to send a ray of brightness struggling into being, but infi¬ 
nitely different from the light in the realm whither his 
mother had vanished from him. The gleam, however, was a 
wintry one; and for many days the scene, or vision, or 

[ 53 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


transport, or whatever else it was — and its impressions •— 
dwelt in his imagination. 

How much, thought George, his devotion to science had 
cost him! Surely if she rewarded her votaries according to 
the sacrifices made for her, George v/as entitled to her 
choicest gifts. His old friends and college companions now 
looked at him askance. The older and more venerable 
among his acquaintances regarded him as a monster not to 
be contemplated without horror. His bosom friends Father 
Ramsay and Father Johnson; and Anthony, now Dr. Pembroke 
— companions of his childhood and staunch and unflinching 
friends of his boyhood and youth — were now separated from 
him by an impassable gulf; or at least, so he imagined, al¬ 
though their attentions and friendship were as pressing as 
ever. Possibly he felt the change in himself, and felt timid 
under the circumstances. And last of all he had sacrificed 
his mother’s love just now — the last offering laid upon the 
altar of science — what if it should all prove fallacious ? 
But no. The sacrifice of his mother’s love was not the last. 
There was just one other sacrifice awaiting George, his heart 
foretold him; and if this foreboding prove true, and he must 
give up this tie also — surely no votary <of religion had 
brought to its altar so complete and wholesale a renunciation 
of the heart’s most tender relations as he was bringing to the 
service of science. This last sacrifice was Rose — Rose 
Ramsay. 

Rose! Would she too cast him off? Was religion so 
bigoted that it would pursue him relentlessly into the very 
last secret chamber of his affections? Would it tear Rose 
from his heart along with all else that he loved? Would it 
intolerantly demand that even she must be surrendered to 
this insensate hatred of science? 

And then too how did matters stand between Rose and 
himself? Had he ever been really clear with himself on this 
point? Did he realize how much she was to him? He had 

[ 54 ] 


ROSE 


felt so secure in the certainty of her l-ove — at least before 
the days of his apostasy — that there was no need to he 
anxious — nothing to do but wait — so certain did he feel 
that her heart was his. Perhaps it was this very security that 
had made him careless and that had led him to permit science 
to come in and engross his life s-o completely. Had he been 
at all uncertain of his prize, it might have been better, — he 
might have proved a better wooer. But as it was he had 
taken matters for granted; and although his love was as deep 
as it was undemonstrative, still he had permitted a rival to 
grow up in his heart; he wooed science far more ardently and 
devoutly than he did the woman he so deeply loved. 

Rose on her part was not jealous of her rival — rather, 
she encouraged the wooing. She knew no woman could ever 
supplant her in his affections; and she wished that George’s 
talents should have an ample field for their fullest develop¬ 
ment. It was only when George’s ardent wooing of science 
began to alienate him from religion, that her fears were 
aroused. Then she began to perceive — wdiat she had not 
hitherto suspected — that her scientific rival was far more 
formidable than if she had been a ravishing creature of flesh 
and blood. Whatever drew George from religion, drew him, 
she felt, away from her. The new feature in George’s love of 
science was surely going to raise an insuperable barrier to 
their union. Surely, surely, the pampered and encouraged 
rival had treacherously taken her place in George’s heart. 

On his side George’s love for Rose was still as deep as 
ever. But what if his defection from religion should really 
affect Rose as it affected his mother? Now for the first time 
alarm filled his heart. Would Rose actually cast him off — as 
his mother had done ? He knew her religion was as deep as 
her love, and that she was as devoutly attached to it as was 
his mother. "Would the lover cast him off as the mother had 
done? He was determined to settle this question before he 
left Toneton. He remembered with dread how inexpressibly 

[ 55 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


shocked Rose was when he first began to slacken in his 
religious belief; and he even recalled with alarm some of the 
expressions which she had used to intimate her abhorrence of 
irreligion and scepticism. George’s change came about so 
rapidly and suddenly, like all his judgments — for with him 
to think was to act — that there was little chance for full inter¬ 
change of views on the subject. Still he had not been without 
due warning on the matter. It was his friend Anthony 
Pembroke who forewarned him of the dangerous risk he was 
running. Anthony was really anxious for the peace and 
happiness of his friend and one day under the favorite oak 
began to question him gravely. 

“Does Miss Ramsay approve of your change of belief?” 
he inquired. 

“No; there has not been time, and in any case I do not see 
how I am going to contradict my intellect. But Rose is a 
sensible girl and will approve of my action as long as it is 
honorable and the result of honest conviction. 

“You are certainly taking a great risk. I fear it will 
change your relations,” he said very gravely. 

“Why should it?” George inquired, slightly alarmed. 
“Miss Ramsay will not cast me off for a difference of opinion.” 

‘ ‘ I should not put it that way. Is it not you rather who 
cast her off? You know her religion is a part of herself—it 
is her life.” 

“I do not see what difference it makes about my views 
on religion. We see persons of different religions marrying 
every day and living happily.” 

“Nevertheless, I believe that, in religion, of all things, 
husband and wife should be one. How can they be happy 
unless they think alike on this vital point. In my opinion it 
should be the very basis of their union on other points. Take 
it away and you have aimed the first blow at a happy union. 
I do not think much of the marriage union where there is a 

[ 56 ] 


ROSE 


wide gaping seam — the most conspicuous of all — which no 
stitching or cementing can conceal.’’ 

“But it is different from a mixed marriage,” George 
earnestly remonstrated. 

“I do not understand,” replied his friend. 

“I am a Catholic for all practical purposes.” 

“Except for the very practical purpose of practising the 
Catholic religion. You are not even a Christian, save and 
except for the fact of your baptism.” 

But it would be quite different from marrying a Protes¬ 
tant or one was was never a Catholic. I know all about the 
Catholic religion and would not entertain the prejudices aris¬ 
ing from ignorance of it, which usually exist in non-Catholic 
minds. ’ ’ 

“And with all this knowledge you reject it.” 

“But I reject it only because it is insufficient to account 
for things. While I reject it, as you call it, I am satisfied 
that if there be religious truth at all, it is only in the Catholic 
church it is to be found. With me it is simply a question of 
the Catholic church or atheism. The halfway house is gone. 
No one, at least no one of intellect, ever leaves the church 
now to join the sects.” 

“Nevertheless (if I am a judge of character, and I think 
I am) I should conclude from what I have seen of Miss 
Ramsay that her religion with her is vital. It is a part of 
herself. I have, perhaps, been able to judge more accurately 
on those points than you. I have observed her with the eye 
of a disinterested critic; you have seen her -only through a 
lover’s eyes.” 

George laughed lightly. But he felt somewhat uneasy all 
the same. 

“However that may be, you may depend upon one 
thing; difference of opinion in religious or scientific matters 
is not going to make a breach between Miss Ramsay and me. ’ ’ 

Perhaps for the first time in his life George did not speak 

[ 57 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


exactly what he believed; for down in the depths of his soul 
there was a slight tremor — which he struggled very hard 
to ignore — but which told him that Anthony Pembroke had 
been a close observer and had come very near the truth in 
his diagnosis of the case. 

And now, too, there came back to George — like a leaf 
blown by the wind which strikes us straight in the face •— a 
speech of Rose’s from the past when a friend of hers had been 
united in the bonds of marriage with a non-Catholic. The 
words came to him now as if they were uttered but a moment 
ago; though strange to say, he had never before given them 
a second thought. “How can such marriages be happy? 
There can be no union in such cases. If a woman cares to 
serve G-od at all, I can not see how she can make a husband 
happy who denies the God she adores and loves or how he 
can make her happy.” 

The whole scene came back to George now and filled him 
with apprehension for his own lot. All this — the conversation 
with Mr. Pembroke and the expression of opinion given by 
Rose — had occurred earlier in George’s career, and made 
little impression on him at the time. But now that his intel¬ 
lectual despotism had completely mastered him, and he had 
burned his bridges behind him, there was much misgiving at 
his heart, and he was determined to settle the question before 
he left Toneton. 

When George had sufficiently recovered from the effects 
on his feelings of the scene in his mother’s room he made 
inquiry for Rose. His cousin, Edith Kingsley, his mother’s 
niece, who was the constant companion of his mother and was 
to George as a sister, being absent, George inquired of the 
servants for Rose after he had searched the house in vain. 
At last he perceived her in the garden whither she had gone 
as much to avoid him as to breathe a little of the pure ozone 
after her long hours in the sick room. George had never seen 
her so bewitching, he thought. The sun was sinking in the 

[ 58 ] 


ROSE 


west, its rays glancing from the blazing glory of autumnal 
leaves, now in all their splendor. The air was fresh and 
keen enough to be bracing, and the sheen in the atmosphere 
was like that of the morning, and Rose was evidently capti¬ 
vated by the beauty of the whole scene. In the center of all 
the golden splendor of leaf and flower painted by the unseen 
hand of autumn’s wondrous colorist, and now gilded by the 
golden rays of the setting sun, he beheld the outline of Rose’s 
graceful form against a background of magnificent flaming 
coleus flanked on both sides by beds of brilliant asters which 
so far had defied the autumnal frosts. The ethereal look of 
the morning had not yet left her — a look which George 
noticed instant^. He had never seen her half so beautiful; 
but it was a strange beauty which reminded him of the 
wondrous radiance of his mother’s face in days gone by. A 
slight shadow of care would have done for all this what 
the frost had already done for the foliage which lay black 
and brown and crumpled all around him; but, like the frost 
on some of the foliage, its power had so far been ineffectual; 
or what little had come was simply transfiguring in its effects 
upon her. The bloom of spring had gone with everything 
of its blooming, sensuous touch; and nothing remained but 
the spiritual beauty. The care that would have given the 
death chill to it all was held in check by her resignation and 
meekness. Had she been less resigned, doubtless she would 
have marred the external beauty. 

It was difficult for George to understand the change. 
He had never perceived anything like this in her before. The 
grace, the outline, the lithe figure attracted him as before: 
but her appearance gave him the impression of what a year 
ago he would have called an angelic being. A far off light 
shone in her eyes. It was not mere beauty cleansed by 
sorrow and chastened by suffering. It was as though a 
seraph’s wing had touched the face and the quiet heavenly 
touch was lingering there still. Even the materialistic George 

[ 59 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


felt a sense of the spiritual coming over him as he gazed at 
her through the window through which he had espied her. 

His heart bounded and throbbed. But it was not hope, 
nor was it joy; it was anxiety — anxiety to know his fate. 
Never had he beheld her so lovely. Never had he longed so 
earnestly to make her his. Never before had he loved her so 
tenderly. Perhaps for the first time too, his science seemed 
poor and paltry in his eyes. He even now for the first time 
regretted his intellectual thraldom — his scientific captivity — 
which held him with all the ardor of a Circe. He felt a strong 
disposition to rail against his new mistress for which he was 
suffering so much. He was at Rose’s side in an instant. 

Her greeting was that of a friend — simple, earnest, 
sincere. She made no effort to disguise her interest; but there 
was something in her manner which made him feel that they 
were now distant as the poles asunder. There was reproach 
in neither her voice nor her manner. She held her hand out 
to him, though manifestly she was under some restraint; and 
George’s heart told him that a Chinese wall of separation had 
risen up between them. 

Now that he stood by her side he realized the embarrass¬ 
ment of the situation. A few commonplaces about his mother’s 
condition and he forced himself to the subject which caused 
him to seek her. 

“I fear my affiliations with science have alienated from 
me all my friends. ’ ’ He spoke with a marked note in his voice 
of the sadness which he really felt in his heart. 

She made no reply. Her fixed gaze rested on a point 
half way down the hill slope. 

He paused in embarrassment. He bit his lip in dis¬ 
appointment ; but she was silent. Evidently there was nothing 
for it but to go on; she evidently was not going to help him 
out. 

‘ ‘ Mother seems — to — have taken — these — things — to 
heart — greatly. I — was — surprised to hear — how much — 

[60] 


ROSE 


the thing — affected her, ? ’ he was forced to drag the words 
from his lips. 

She turned and fixed upon him a look of mingled wonder 
and inquiry. 

His embarrassment was becoming unbearable. What did 
she mean ? Why would she not understand him ? Plainly 
she was not going to help him out. And what did her look 
mean? Surprise? At him? Or at his mother? Pshaw! 
What a fool he had been! He had not calculated the conse¬ 
quences of his scientific alliance at all. Would she never 
speak? He was growing desperate. He stooped and broke a 
shoot from a rose bush beside him, and the thorns pricked 
him. 

“Yes; my mother thinks I am recklessly and wantonly 
pursuing a course of folly.” He breathed hard; evidently 
speaking was an effort. 

It was plain that she regarded comment as unnecessary; 
for she volunteered none. 

A string of wild geese stretched across the valley between 
them and the setting sun; and “Honk, honk, honk” was 
distinctly audible to both; for they both looked up. The 
leader had evidently lost his way, for he went first in one 
direction and then in another. They looked at each other 
and the same thought was in both minds. 

“I suppose you, too, believe that I am pursuing a wild- 
goose chase of vanity and delusion, ’ ’ he said with bitterness. 

This time, she evidently regarded herself as challenged 
directly for an opinion and she spoke in the softest and 
quietest voice imaginable. 

“The course must certainly be vanity and delusion which 
leads away from God;”—her voice was scarcely audible, but 
clear and distinct. 

“But see the blessings which science has poured out on 
the world in such abundance.” 

“You know there is the widest difference possible between 

[61] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the science that confers those blessings and the so-called 
science that takes away the blessing of faith. ’ ’ 

How beautiful she looked in the evening light as he looked 
at her while she spoke with soft earnestness! 

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am following an 
ignis fatuus or a rainbow.” 

‘ ‘ Oh surely you must know that you are. Why not even 
now before the harm is done — before it is too late — abandon 
this delusion? A science that takes from you your faith is 
like a spirit that is not from on high. In God’s name forsake 
this madness; ” — and she turned to him earnestly as she 
pleaded in her anxious desire to restore him to his mother and 
religion. 

He was touched by her earnestness and supposed she was 
pleading her own cause. How he loved her for it. 

“It is not impossible that I should retrace my steps,’’ he 
said, reflectingly. If it were a question of for her sake, he 
seemed ready to make the sacrifice. 

“ Oh! May heaven grant that boon ! ’ ’ she cried in eager 
earnestness. She was thinking of his mother and of his own 
spiritual advantage. “You will abandon these false scientific 
gods.” 

“For your sake I would abandon everything save honor. 
It is not impossible that I should hold science in abeyance with 
all its intellect-compelling truth. I am not obliged to swear 
allegiance to it. Such questions can be waived altogether. ’ ’ 

She shrank from him in dismay. He had misunderstood 
her. The depth of her feelings on the subject of his fall had 
hurried her into a sad mistake in her mode of expressing 
them. He supposed she was pleading for herself, and she felt 
the blood rushing to her face, the witness of her mortification. 
She hastened to correct his misinterpretation of her words. 

“No; no; you misapprehend. It is not for myself I plead ; 
I am not so selfish. Heaven forbid that I should entreat you 
to forego for my sake what you believe to be truth. No, no. 

[62] 


ROSE 


It is because it is not truth, that I plead. Pardon my words 
and the earnestness with which I uttered them. But no; there 
must be no misunderstanding. Were you even now to again 
become the devout Catholic which you formerly were, we can 
only be friends — henceforth friends only can we be. ’ ’ 

There was distress manifest in her voice — distress be¬ 
cause her words had been misunderstood; but there were also 
anguish and sadness hidden beneath her agitated manner; 
nevertheless the words were uttered with a solemnity which 
thrilled every fibre of his soul. 

But, good heavens! What did she mean ? Had she cast 
him aside completely ? Had he really lost her forever ? 
And never had she appeared to him so ravishingly beautiful. 
There was no sacrifice that he would not have made for her 
at that moment. What did her words imply? Was it really, 
as she said, too late? 

He must know. 

“What is there to prevent our old relations to be re¬ 
newed if I abandon this science that has, it appears, separated 
us?” 

“If you believe it to be truth, you are not the man to 
trifle with it unless you are false to yourself. You are but 
deceiving yourself upon this point. But,” and she moved 
forward as if to end the conference, “it is now too late for 
such a thing. Yesterday it might be; today never.” 

She was moving away; but he stepped before her squarely 
in the path. 

“But this is madness. Speak. What do you mean?” — 
he spoke hoarsely and in accents of despair. “Oh this is 
trifling with too sacred a subject — gambling not with faith, 
but with love, with hope, with the human heart. I shall 
renounce all my scientific pursuits without delay — without 
question” — and he firmly believed for the moment that he 
could. 

“Were you to become to-morrow all that you have been, 

[ 63 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


that fact — no, no, yon must not be deceived — so far from 
reuniting us would be the insurmountable -obstacle which must 
render our union impossible — it is best that you should know 
it.” 

‘ ‘ But it is for my apostasy you have cast me off. I know 
it is. It is with you the same as with mother. What then is 
this puzzle?” 

“It means that I can not recall my promise.” 

“Promise? Madness! What does this mean?” 

“It means that I have made a solemn promise to God —” 

“Never to be mine—” 

“No rather have I prayed Him never to permit me to be 
yours — to deny me that happiness — to accept the sacrifice 
— the greatest that I could make — that — that — that — 
you might be brought back to His love — to His truth. I 
am sure He has deigned to accept the sacrifice. This is why 
it can never be as you wish. I can not break my solemn 
pledge. He has accepted it and I feel He will grant my 
prayer. ’ ’ 

“Oh what blindness and folly has been mine? Why did 
not some one warn me of the consequences -of my folly? I 
suppose you have taken vows to dedicate yourself to religion 
and that all your beauty and all your goodness will be hidden 
within the walls of some gloomy convent. And to this im¬ 
prisonment for life I have driven you by my folly.” 

He was now really angry with himself and almost cursed 
the ill-fated love of science that had robbed him of all, 
science itself excepted, that he really loved. 

“No, no,” she answered eagerly. “I have no such pre¬ 
sumption in mind. I would not dare to offer to God, the shat¬ 
tered remnants of a 1-ove that has been wrecked on earthly 
things. It would be an insult to Him. My work must be 
humbler far than that of those who have given themselves in 
the freshness and fragrance of the love of their young hearts 

[64] 


ROSE 


to be his consecrated spouses. This would be too sublime, too 
glorious for one who has been taken up with earthly loves.’’ 

“In heaven’s name then what have you done? What are 
your plans for the future — I have a right to know.” 

Poor George! He overlooked the fact that if he had the 
right to know, he should have thought about it before taking 
the momentous step on his own behalf, which now placed this 
yawning gulf between them. 

She smiled. “What God in His infinite providence may 
have in store for you and for me I know not. The future is a 
mystery whose veil I yet dare hardly venture to lift. Of one 
thing, however, I am certain, our lots part here. Farewell, 
forever. ’ ’ 

She was gone. 

George stood transfixed to the spot as if dazed. Here 
was what a woman could do. She had offered her happiness 
on the altar of sacrifice that he might be saved! Saved! 
Bah! Absurd! This was the folly of Christianity. What 
folly in this woman! And what fanatics religion makes of 
its devotees! And yet — and yet — was not this precisely 
what he could not do? Was there not sacrifice — heroic 
sacrifice — here ? The greatest possible sacrifice — even tak¬ 
ing the act as a mistaken one! And yet he called religion sel¬ 
fish in its aims and ends! Surely here was something which 
his science could not dream of — that a woman should sacrifice 
all her prospects of happiness with the man she loved and by 
whom she was loved in turn, in order that that man should 
be eternally happy. This was a vicarious suffering entirely 
new to him (he forgot that the mainspring of Christianity 
was vicarious suffering)—she was to suffer that he might be 
the gainer. It was madness — fanaticism — of course; he 
could not regard it as aught else. Yet still it was sacrifice — 
altruism — altruism of the purest type — altruism, too, in¬ 
spired by this strange religion which science and agnosticism 
were trying hard to make the world believe was inspired only 

[6s] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


by selfishness. He was stunned. He was bewildered. He was 
heart-broken; that is, as far as his heart could be said to 
break. Never had the world of life appeared to him so dark 
and dismal. 

When he returned to the university that night, he said 
to Professor Tait who came to make inquiry about his 
mother’s condition and to make some arrangements regard¬ 
ing the expedition of the work on the great enterprise: 

“Science should be the most indulgent of mistresses. 
To her I have sacrificed today the love of the two noblest 
women on earth — I wonder if her rewards will repay the 
sacrifice. I have trampled on the broken hearts of both for 
her sake.” 


[66J 


CHAPTER YI 


The Great Enterprise 

O NE OF the commonest experiences of life is disillusion¬ 
ment. How often has it happened that after a man 
iias sacrificed everything, duty and conscience in¬ 
cluded, for the attainment of a particular fancy, in the 
supreme moment when he clasps the golden prize it is dis¬ 
covered to be clay. The fruit turns to ashes on the lips. 
Disenchantment and disillusionment arrive at the same 
moment with the prize; and he finds that all the suffering 
and hardship which he has inflicted upon himself and others 
have been the price of a mere delusion. Was George going 
to experience this very common trial? Certain it was that he 
had sacrificed to his heart’s ruling desire every other affec¬ 
tion of that heart. Would he too find that the game was 
not worth the candle? 

Certain it was too, that George was now free to pursue 
his heart’s desire. Much as he loved his mother and much 
as he loved Rose, he was nevertheless able, with comparative 
ease, to shake off the pain and misery which his visit to 
Toneton had brought him. His heart was sore — very sore 
indeed. If he wished to forget it, a sharp twinge in that 
neighborhood, as though a sharp sword-blade were piercing 
it, was a rather painful reminder. But still he was young 
and hopeful. Whatever Rose might have meant by the 
strange language in which she informed him of the rejection 
of his love, a change, he hoped would one day come. When 
the full glory of his scientific achievements flashed upon the 
world in all their brilliancy and splendor, and when the full 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


blaze of scientific enlightenment had driven to the shadows 
the Christian beliefs, Rose’s pledges would automatically 
crumble to nothingness — Rose would in all probability be 
inclined to reconsider her rash resolve. One thing there 
was for which he could not be too grateful — her determina¬ 
tion did not include the immuring of herself in a convent. 
This was much to be thankful for and relieved the situation 
of its otherwise utter hopelessness. Perhaps if truth were 
told it was on this very slender foundation all his hopes were 
built. By the time, too, that his scientific achievement was 
filling the world with glory, the sun of scientific truth would 
have ascended so high in the heavens, that its noonday rays 
would penetrate everywhere, and Rose — for was she not a 
sensible girl in spite of everything ? — would herself see 
the folly of clinging to superannuated superstitions; or at 
least the superstitions would have so greatly relaxed their 
hold upon her that she would look differently on his defec¬ 
tion. 

Moreover it must be admitted that George yielded more 
easily to intellectual pleasures than to those of the heart ; 
and while there could be no doubt about the sincerity and 
depth of his affection for Rose, and while no other woman 
could for a moment take her place in his heart, his thirst 
for knowledge, for fame, for intellectual glory was more to 
him than any heart’s desire. In other words love was with 
George but a secondary passion. It was a weakness — a 
delightful weakness indeed — but man’s place was in the 
acquisition of fame and glory. These were the serious 
things of life. Love was only for its idle moments. Like the 
old Scandinavian warriors who regarded war — war — as 
the primary duty — since glory and renown came from it — 
and to whom woman was only the toy of an idle hour, so 
George regarded the achievements, the wonders, the splen¬ 
dors of science, which intoxicated the intellect with its 
golden dreams of glory and which was now filling the earth 

m 


THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


with its marvels, as the only things really worthy of mascu¬ 
line attention. Hence although his heart felt sore and 
crushed he rather chid it for its weakness than coddled or 
petted it. Consequently he was soon immersed in his great 
study again. 

How slowly the History of The Inductive Sciences was 
progressing! But then it was a great work and required 
time. It was encyclopedic. His army of assistants was 
working faithfully too and the first volume would soon be 
in shape for the printer. It is true this volume was merely 
introductory and did not go very deeply into matters scienti¬ 
fic. But it was splendidly arranged and lucidity before all 
marked everything that came from George’s hands. Nothing 
but words of encouragement came for the sample specimen 
pages sent out to the universities and colleges in particular. 
“The work could not be in better hands” wrote Professor 
Sayse. “A glorious achievement worthy of science in every 
way,” was the comment of Dr. Dearmont, whose opinion 
was perhaps the most coveted of any in the field of physical 
science. “As far in advance of the original work of which 
it purports to be a continuation as the science of our day is 
in advance of that of Dr. Whewell,” wrote Professor Hat- 
leigh. “A fitting monument to modern scientific glories,” 
was the editorial comment of the N. Y. Sound. “A store¬ 
house of scientific wisdom and learning,” wrote the Chicago 
Wind. “Superb!” whispered Professor Johns in George’s 
ear as he met him at a university function in Pennsylvania. 
“Beyond all praise,” wrote Professor Jaymes. Would not 
Whewell rejoice in his ashes could he know what a worthy 
successor he had and what a wealth of rich material was to 
be given soon to the world. A sheaf of communications all 
in the “laudate” strain awaited George on his arrival home, 
filling him with fresh zeal and courage, and in less than 
twenty-four hours he had thrown himself into his work with 

[69] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


such an abandon that the pain had gone from his heart ex¬ 
pelled by the joy of the intellect. 

Nevertheless, in spite of all these encomiums of his 
work and in spite of the pleasure they gave him, there were 
times when George stood aghast at the sight of the vast 
enterprise he had undertaken. He had yet with him his 
Christian conscience and the high sense of honor and 
scrupulosity to duty, which it enjoined. His chief aim was 
to do his work well and faithfully — to chronicle the real 
advance in science accurately, to set down naught in malice 
or unfairness, and to tell the plain truth on every subject. 
The responsibility he felt was tremendous — the difficulties 
enormous. He at once began to realize that it was an utter 
impossibility for him — for any man — to master the entire 
output of knowledge on any particular subject—whether it 
were a great division or even a subdivision. The mass of 
matter was overwhelming. The days of the Admirable 
Crichtons were gone. The aspiring genius who boasted that 
he took all knowledge to be his portion, would find that the 
grasp of his ambition would hardly reach more than one- 
millionth part of the whole. Not only could no man now 
master all the scientific knowledge and learning which the 
world contained; but he could not master all that was em¬ 
braced in one single department of science. 

From time to time as there dawned upon him a full 
realization of the responsibility of the gigantic task he had 
so jauntily, lightly and confidently assumed, he found him¬ 
self forced to stop and ask himself whether he could con¬ 
scientiously — that is, honorably, for conscience he did not 
now believe in—go on with the work. It was true he had a 
trained body of helpers; but what did he know of their 
ability, faithfulness and conscientious working? 

And then this difficulty was supplemented by another 
still more appalling. He had now been brought nearer to 
scientific doctrines than he had ever been before and duty 

[ 70 ] 


THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


obliged him to examine them more closely. Hitherto he had 
for the most part taken these doctrines on faith, that is on 
the word of scientists. Now he was forced to examine them 
for himself at short range, since he must be responsible for 
his statements concerning them; and the nearer he came 
t*o the grounds for the dogmatism of science the more his 
ardor cooled. Indeed on many subjects on which he had 
built many air castles, he found that his confidence of 
opinion had suffered a severe shock. There were indeed 
departments of science where skilful and talented men had 
made everything plain and left nothing to surmise. They 
conscientiously enunciated the indisputable conclusions from 
facts that were indubitable. They were careful not to ex¬ 
ceed the limits of truth or logic in their statements, and 
where was conjecture they gave it as conjecture, where was 
fact they gave it unhesitatingly as fact, where was doubt 
they candidly gave it as doubt with their own private 
opinions as to the probability or improbability of the 
hypothesis proving ultimately to be truth. Their facts were 
incontrovertible, their logic was impregnable, their premises 
unquestionable, and their conclusions legitimately drawn. 
But on the other hand he found in so many departments that 
the data consisted of a jumbled mass of opinions, in which it 
was almost impossible to sift the grain of truth from the chaff 
—and these were unfortunately the departments in which 
he had hitherto relied on the statements of authority! Dog¬ 
matic statements he frequently found on investigation, to 
be mere hypotheses. Facts were proclaimed to the world 
which were the reverse of certain. And then, worse still, 
theories were founded on these doubtful facts — often not 
even logically derived from them — and paraded before the 
world as “the teachings of science” on these points. So 
much that he had supposed to be settled facts and legitimate 
deductions of science — settled definite knowledge — turned 
out, on close acquaintance to be mere flotsam and jetsam— 

[7i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the fluctuating views—of speculation merely; nothing more. 
Wild reckless statements without solid foundation in fact or 
reason, he found masquerading in many fields of speculation, 
dignified by the name of “Scientific Conclusions.” And to 
his utter amazement he found that this was the prevailing 
system in many fields in which he had supposed that absolute 
certainty had been actually attained. All this was an in¬ 
expressible shock to him. 

In the practical or industrial science all was indeed 
easy. The specialists here left nothing to be desired. Noth¬ 
ing was haphazard or guess, much less reckless statement. 
If only he could say the same of the speculative sciences! 
The light that had been thrown on old problems was, he 
discovered, by no means as full or as satisfactory as he had 
supposed it to be. And instead of being able to record a 
long series of glorious triumphs in which nature had been 
robbed of her secrets and rifled of the knowledge she seemed 
so loath to part with, he found that his hands were empty, or, 
if full, filled only with a mass of rubbish labelled foolishly 
as learning. Even such subjects as geology and paleontology 
which he had regarded as most exact in their statements — 
so much so, indeed, as to deserve the name of the exact 
sciences — contained nothing but a mass of facts which men 
tried to account for by clever conjecture. What was more, 
he found that one conjecture in this field was just as good 
as another. The great problems which he had regarded as 
solved, he found to be still impregnable citadels stormed 
merely by guess work. 

And then there was the question of his assistants. What 
of them? Were they really capable of doing the work 
assigned to them? What were their views regarding the 
interchangeability of fact and hypothesis? Could he rely 
upon them — first on their knowledge and then on their 
conscientious performance of the task? He was completely 
at their mercy. In a thousand mistakes and blunders and 

[72] 


THE GREAT ENTERPEISE 


incorrect and false statements — what means did he have of 
ascertaining the truth f If the teachers — as he had found 
— could not be depended upon for accuracy of statement or 
for honest exposition of the question before them — how 
about their disciples? If it were so in the dry wood what 
would it be in the green? 

And it was on this particular point of the assistants 
that George’s confidence got the first actual jolt. 

“Pixley” said George one day to the head of the depart¬ 
ment which was to report fully on the subject of spontaneous 
generation, “is the report ready for inspection *on this sub¬ 
ject?” 

“It will be on your desk at six o’clock this evening,” 
Pixley replied. 

The report was in place duly as promised, and when 
George returned to his room and settled down for an 
evening’s work, he lighted a cigar, leaned back in his easy 
chair, with his back to the softened light of his student lamp 
to glance at the contents on the paper. 

He felt more at ease this evening than he had for some 
time, owing to the fact that a special letter of commendation 
of the work had appeared in the Boston Talk column of the 
New York Fame. As he smoked and read he was blowing 
away the smoke wreaths with calm contentment, and from 
time to time, as they drifted away too lazily, he took his 
cigar from his mouth and waved them off quietly, calmly, 
majestically, with his hand, with the air of a man who is 
enjoying the good opinion of the world at large. All at 
once he gave a start and a frown appeared on his forehead. 
He muttered something between his teeth. His movement 
was so sudden that the fine setter lying at his feet jumped 
suddenly into the middle of the room and gave two sharp 
barks of surprise and inquiry. He read the passage over a 
second time with manifestly great care. A glance at the 

[73] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


remainder of the paper and then he flung it down with a 
vehemence which caused the lamp to tremble! 

Next morning he sent for Pixley. 

“Pixley, who were your asistants on the subject of 
spontaneous generation ?”, he inquired. 

“Jones and Smith hunted up all the references; but I 
read them and compared them all myself.” 

“Did you take the pains to verify every statement in 
the report submitted?” 

“Most assuredly, Professor.” 

“And each authority was followed out exhaustively, 
so that there could be no doubt but that his exact scientific 
•views were given in the paper?” 

“Every utterance of the authority quoted upon the 
subject has been fully explored and no doubt left about his 
scientific conclusion,” was the somewhat stiff reply. 

“Did you write that paper which was handed to me 
last evening ? ’ ’ 

“No sir. I did not write it.” 

“Did you read it carefully before handing it in?” 

“Most assuredly. I am not accustomed to neglect my 
duty ’ ’ — with a slight assumption of injury. 

“But this paper states directly that both Professor 
Huxley and Professor Tyndall maintained as a scientific 
theory, the doctrine of spontaneous generation. Are you 
aware that the very reverse of this was the fact ? ’ ’ 

“But it was not the fact, they both believed in the 
doctrine,” stoutly persisted Pixley. 

“In spite of the fact that Tyndall by his own experi¬ 
ments, refuted Bastian, when he attacked Pasteur? Are you 
not aware that Tyndall proved by his experiments to his 
own satisfaction that there is no such thing as spontaneous 
generation ? ’ ’ 

“Nevertheless he maintained the doctrine.” 

“In spite of his own proofs to the contrary?”, inquired 

[ 74 ] 


THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


George scenting for the first time the cause of the paper’s 
statement. 

“In spite of his own experiments,” was the cool reply. 

“Do you maintain that Tyndall and Huxley maintained 
that spontaneous generation was scientifically established?” 

“No, — not — as — scientifically established,’’ admitted 
Pixley slowly and reluctantly. 

“As highly probable, or well-nigh proven, then?’ 

“No, not as highly probable.” 

“Asa hypothesis on which they worked — a good work¬ 
ing hypothesis then, perhaps?’ ’ 

“No, not exactly as a working hypothesis even.” 

“And yet in spite of this you ‘0. K.’ a paper that con¬ 
veys the intelligence to the world that both Huxley and 
Tyndall, as a result of their scientific investigations and 
experiments, maintained the doctrine of spontaneous 
generation.” 

Pixley was silent. 

“You were well aware that the strongest expression that 
Tyndall could use on the subject, was that it was not 
‘impossible.’ Supposing I said that it was not impossible that 
you were a fool, would it be a proof that you had garbed your¬ 
self in motley and donned a cap and bells?” 

Pixley smiled grimly. 

“Not precisely,” said Pixley. 

“And you are fully aware that Huxley admitted that 
he could not even make an act of scientific faith in spon¬ 
taneous generation — much as he wished to do so?” added 
George. 

“I am aware of it.” 

“Then how dare you present such a statement as this 
in your paper when referring to the views of Huxley and 

i This statement is actually made by W. H. Mallock in his “Religion as a 
Credible Doctrine,” and in precisely these words. 

[' 75 ] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Tyndall: ‘That it has taken place in the past is the very 
thing they affirm’?” 

Pixley hung his head. He did not deny his guilt. 

“But they believed it” he remonstrated after a 
moment’s pause. 

“You were well aware that we are not recording any 
man’s private opinions or beliefs, however eminent he may 
have been, as scientifically worth notice unless his opinion is 
corroborated by fact or experiment. How then when the 
opinion or faith is contradicted so completely by his own 
experiments that he can not even call his faith scientific?” 

“I suppose you wished to give their leanings on the 
subject,” pleaded Pixley, who began to regret his intentional 
error, made perhaps thinking it would not be discovered. 

“We want to give their scientific views. In the case of 
eminent men like Huxley and Tyndall, we might have 
recorded their private views in opposition to the views 
forced upon them by science; but the views which science 
compelled them to adopt sorely against their will are pre¬ 
cisely the ones you have omitted. This was misleading and 
dishonest.” 

And George in confirmation of his words took down a 
volume of Huxley and read: 

“Belief, in the scientific sense of the word, is a serious 
matter, and needs strong foundations. To say, therefore, in 
the admitted absence of evidence, that I have any belief as 
to the mode in which the existing forms of life have origi¬ 
nated, would be using words in a wrong sense.” 

“You see pursued George, he dared not make even an 
act of scientific faith in the doctrine.” 

He continued to read. 

“But expectation is permissible where belief is not (you 

see he has not even belief—merely expectation) . 

but I beg you once more to recollect that I have, no right to 
call my opinion anything but an act of philosphical faith.” 

[76] 



THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


“All this you knew” said George turning to Pixley 
abruptly. 

“Yes” aspirated Pixley, now thoroughly repentant. 

“That will do, Pixley. You may go.” 

Pixley was promptly discharged from the work; and on 
inquiry George learned that he was a rabid heterogenist. 

The incident was an object lesson to George in more 
ways than one. It perhaps shook his confidence in Huxley 
more than in Pixley. He read carefully the words in which 
Huxley evidently with the greatest reluctance admitted the 
force of the Pasteur and Tyndall experiments, which so com¬ 
pletely contradicted his views about evolution and the origin 
of life. But what struck him most forcibly now — it had 
never struck him before — was the jugglery of words in 
which Huxley tried to obscure his meaning. Huxley, al¬ 
ways so lucid: — whose sentences were usually as clear and 
limpid as running water in a clear stream! What was it all 
but the effort to muddy the waters in behalf on his own 
opinion, which he dared not call even “faith” but merely an 
“expectation?” “And this was how science was written!” 
George thought. “And this was the fair nymph who had 
wooed him from all his religious ties and affiliations!” 

The more he pondered the matter, the more discouraged 
did he become over the work. If it were only within the 
possibility of his own powers! But now, that he could not 
place confidence in the honesty of his assistants, was plain. 
And how could he depend on their judgment even where 
their honesty was not in question? Some, indeed — like 
young Digsby in the archaelogical department — were 
veritable treasures. They loved the labor for the sake of 
science. Some w T ere even enthusiastic—intoxicated with 
their work, lovers of truth with a keen eye for accuracy of 
statement and with soundness of judgment which might be 
fully relied upon. But others were like Pixley, and especially 
on the subjects of Geology and Paleontology, he found that 

[77] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


his helpers were not more reliable than Pixley himself. 
George began to doubt the wisdom *of the enterprise and 
began to have grave scruples about pursuing it. He cer¬ 
tainly wished to give to the world only scientific truth and 
statement without disguise or bias — truth where there was 
truth, doubt where there was doubt, and falsity exposed 
where statements or hypotheses had been exposed or dis¬ 
credited. 

But now? Was he to become responsible for the false 
notions which these untutored or dishonest men might in¬ 
troduce ? Could he go sponsor to the world for the accuracy 
of a work brought into existence in this fashion ? What was 
there in it that could be pronounced reliable? Of his own 
specialty — biology — he could speak in fairly confident 
terms. Naught was there that was false, at least — naught 
set down in bias or in doubt; but could he say the same of the 
rest of the work? It began to harrow his very soul to think 
of the ignorance that passed for learning and the mass of 
heterogeneous rubbish — aye rubbish was the term — for 
which he — or no one else — could vouch. Someone made a 
statement at random — or a blunder — and statement and 
blunder were faithfully copied all along the line, took their 
places boldly as gospel truth and were handed down as the 
world’s choice knowledge and wisdom. 

And then he thought — all at once — and the thought 
caused him almost to explode with laughter at the absurdity 
of the situation, although the next moment he was shocked 
at the consequences — it was precisely in this way that 
Herbert Spencer had given to the world his famous Syn¬ 
thetic Philosophy. Horrors! And it was from data com¬ 
piled in this manner he drew his philosophical deductions 
which he tried so hard to foist upon the world! The 
absurdity of it all made him break out into hideous laughter 
which he could not suppress. And this was the way scien¬ 
tific and philosophical opinions were framed! And this was 

[78] 


THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


the sort of rubbish that imposed upon the world in the 
name and with the authority of science! And his laughter 
died away in a howl of horror and indignation. ‘ 4 Spencer’’ 
—-thought he — “was a specialist in nothing.’’ He had no 
pretensions to scientific knowledge. He took what facts 
were brought to him — true or false — he was unable to tell 
the difference; and his special work — he wanted all the 
world to know it — was to draw conclusions from the colla¬ 
tions and comparison of them. But what of the facts — and 
what of their relations — and what of the opinions and doc¬ 
trines that accompanied those facts? Did they not come 
from a corps of workers like George’s? — save the mark. 
The thought almost drove George frantic. And this was 
science ! Was it — could it be — that this was all there was 
to the glorius queen that walked the earth in such majesty 
as he had supposed — that dazzling science with its kingdom 
of truth and of glory. Now it seemed to him it was nothing 
but tinsel and rags. He went almost mad when he thought 
of the huge imposition upon a credulous world and the 
colossal impudence of the undertaking. 

And yet what was he himself doing? Precisely what 
Spencer had done. A little more conscientiously and a little 
more capably, perhaps, but who would guarantee the capa¬ 
bility and the honesty of his assistants in separating truth 
from falsehood? Had he not copied Spencer’s method in 
almost everything? And this was what passed in a credu¬ 
lous world as science! This was the victory that overcame 
religion — not scientific fact but scientific faith. He felt a 
nausea for all scientific knowledge with its budget of false¬ 
hood rising within him for the first time in his life. He 
could with difficulty restrain himself from rushing to the 
publishers and denouncing the whole work as a gigantic 
fraud, and renouncing further responsibility for it. Never 
before had knowledge appeared to him so contemptible. 
Instead of a pure limpid, sparkling stream, the fountain of 

[79] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


scientific knowledge so boasted, so extolled and admired, 
seemed to him to be mere mndwater and ooze. With diffi¬ 
culty could he persuade himself not to sever his connection 
with the work without further delay. 

A few days later another circumstance of a nature slightly 
different from the Pixley affair, but still more serious in its 
consequences came under George’s observation and aroused 
him first to the highest summit of hope and then to the 
same pitch of nausea. More rubbish, he had learned, as he 
said himself reproachfully to the delinquent Pixley, was 
palmed off on an unsuspecting world in the name of science 
and under the guise of learning than in any other sphere of 
knowledge. He was bitterly meditating on these things 
when he was summoned to the telephone. 

He took down the receiver instantly. 

“Yes.” He disdained the conventional “hello.” 

“Hello” came in response, however. 

“Yes,” again. “Who is it? With whom am I speak¬ 
ing?” 

“Professor Sangeuin. Is this Dr. Edwards?” 

“Yes. What is the news?’’ 

“News! NEWS!! NEWS!!! indeed!” rang straight into 
the room. “The most momentous discovery of science 
within the century.” 

George drew the telephone towards him and listened 
with all his ears lest he might miss a syllable. 

“What is the nature of the discovery?” The scientific 
horizon began to brighten somewhat. 

“A fossil remains at Stonefelt! Professor Knowseur 
has been down to examine it and declares that there is little 
doubt but that the missing link has been at last discovered.. 
Day after to-morrow we are going to make an excursion to 
Stonefelt — a body of scientists, Professor Gawkie, Professor 
Jaymes, Professor Johns and myself go together and we 
want you to join us at Jungtown.” 

[80] 


THE GREAT ENTERPRISE 


Here was news indeed. The scientific horoscope was not 
so repelling after all. Science was after all going to favor 
her devoted sons. “Nature never yet betrayed the heart 
that loved her” as Wordsworth had it. George was young, 
and his spirits were buoyant, and transitions of moods were 
easy. He was soon walking on air again. The vexations 
and annoyances of the history were completely forgotten in 
the prospect of this new and most exciting of expeditions. 
Was the mystery really at last to be solved? Was the tittle- 
tattle of theologians to be silenced forever? Was the justifi¬ 
cation of his own step — cruelly called apostasy — the 
wisdom of which he had even begun to doubt himself, at 
hand? George was not easily excited; but he might be 
pardoned if he felt a slight flutter of the heart and his blood 
ran to his temples until the veins throbbed. Was he about 
to be present at one of those rare occurrences — those great 
and memorable events in the world’s history when corrobora¬ 
tion of a much debated and much maligned theory was to 
silence its opponents forever? Was the great generalization 
which to him was the most marvellous thing in science about 
to be lifted out of the realm of conjecture, and consequently 
of controversy? His friends had twitted him with giving 
up his faith for a chimera. Now science was going to 
demonstrate to them that he had simply given up childish 
superstition for a certainty—a proven—scientific certainty, 
and with these agreeable anticipations George lost no time 
but began at once to make ready his traveling outfit. 


CHAPTER VII 


Hope Revived 

G EORGE took the night train for Jnngtown. He retired 
early. Pompey, the colored autocrat of the Pullman 
sleeper, for once deferred to the will of a passenger, 
and after many dodgings into other people’s sections and 
into the smoking mom, while the chaos that precedes order 
was being created by Pompey, George soon found himself 
stretched at full length in lower No. 6 of the Pinta wooing 
slumber, with his train travelling at the rate of fifty-nine 
miles an hour. 

The motion of the coach and its rolling on the rails soon 
brought sleep — or at least unconsciousness — to George. Rest 
it could hardly be called — his nerves were so completely 
unstrung by the trying events of the past few days with their 
varied and provoking experiences. His mind was full. This 
agreeable episode after so many disgusting and harrowing 
ones had an exciting rather than a quieting effect upon his 
nerves; and his sleep was far from refreshing. It was a 
confusion of whistles, of passing engines, of stopping at sta¬ 
tions and grating wheel-testings with ringing hammers. A 
flop of the window shade at his feet as they swung around 
a curve revealed a light or two in passing. He sent the shade 
up with a click and the full moon in the heavens was racing 
with his train. Soon it beat the train and crossed its bow — 
so to speak — and George dozed again. Again a shriek of 
the whistle and again George awoke with a start. This time 
he thought he must have discovered a new constellation — 
the acute-angled triangle of Cassiopeia only was in view with 
the rest of the “lady in her chair” hiding under a cloud — 

[82] 


HOPE REVIVED 


and George wondered for the nonce what part of the heavens 
the new constellation honored with its presence. Again a 
doze and again a shriek from an engine passing as they swung 
around a curve, and George opened his eyes wide in wonder 
and astonishment. It was not a new constellation in the 
heavens this time. The wonder was on the earth. Far be¬ 
hind in the valley, for they were now ascending a fearful 
grade, lay what appeared to be a grove of gigtantic azaleas 
with their soft pink blossoms illuminating the darkness. The 
scene was beautiful in the extreme as it suddenly sprung on 
George’s vision out of the darkness as if by magic. It thrilled 
him with pleasure, admiration, and delight to say nothing of 
the wonder. Never had he beheld anything so beautiful — so 
unique, he thought — and he had not; for it was the electric 
lights in the city of Walmesborough over which the train was 
fast rising and each crystal lamp was, in the darkness, and at 
that distance, a blooming glory. He then knew that he was 
travelling through the finest railroad scenery in America; 
when he remembered that he was ascending the steep grade 
that would bring him three thousand feet above Walmes¬ 
borough. The scene was lost in an instant just as it came. 
Again as they rounded another curve the fairy scene ap¬ 
peared for an instant but was out *of sight again in a moment. 
Again the moon came into view as the train rounded another 
curve; but not all the challenging of the engine as she strode 
on in the darkness could persuade the moon t-o try another 
race with her. Up the mountain side the train strode. The 
steepness of the grade was attested by the snorting of the iron 
lungs which were evidently being tested to their full capacity. 
She rushed with a mad determination like a wearied lioness ; 
but George looked in vain for the grove of gigantic azaleas or 
for a race with Diana — the sky was overcast with clouds. 
But the darkness now became as interesting as the light in its 
brilliancy. Great huge cliffs with sheer sides seemed to pursue 
the train. They came out of the great black breast of the 

[83] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


night. Now they approached so near that their scarped edges 
were visible even in the darkness. Seamed, and ridged, and 
ravined, they seemed to look in in contempt on the invasion of 
their solitude by the roar of the engine. Now they scampered 
off like a herd of cattle and then from their vantage ground 
of distance seemed to turn and stand, and look in amazement 
at the puffing, panting, snorting monster, belching forth its 
sparks of fire and hot, thick, black breath. And then again, 
almost instantly they were at his side again with a bound, so 
close that he strained his eyes in vain to reach their scarped 
summits. From time to time a train rushed past them in the 
opposite direction with a shriek; and as they ascended the 
mountain, from time to time a branch swept off from the 
main line at an acute angled curve and plunged headlong into 
the darkness like a railed ravine, while a few straggling lights 
along its track and far down the valley showed that in the 
steepness of its plunge there too was life. A narrow gauge 
track lay along side of the main track and in more than one 
place a fussy little engine with a long train of freight cars 
attached, shrieked and whistled and screeched, and tore down 
the incline — soon disappearing in one *of those ravines, as 
if scared to death by the oncoming monster which seemed 
ready to crush it like a juggernaut. And still up the moun¬ 
tain the huge train toiled and strove — around curves — now 
leaning heavily to that side, now to this; but George was 
always able to tell from his angle with the horizontal, how 
near he was to the summit and how steep was the grade which 
they were ascending. He dozed off lightly, wearied with the 
watching, woke half a dozen times, nodded off again, and 
lost trace at last completely of the time — the whereabouts — 
the geography of his position. When he awoke he was at 
Jungtown. His scientific friends were awaiting him on the 
platform. The ride — especially the last hour’s doze — had 
somewhat rested his nerves; but he was still in a high state 
of tension when he reached Stonefelt. 

[84] 


CHAPTER VIII 


The Missing Link 

T HE most distinguished scientists of the continent of 
America and a few from across the Atlantic, who had 
happened to be visiting in the United States had already 
arrived on the scene and the interest was intense. And it was 
a strange enough freak. One portion of the body was petri¬ 
fied, while the remainder was of the ordinary fossil character; 
but the petrification ran through the full length of the figure 
in a somewhat whimsical fashion. 

It was a fact. Some workmen engaged in tunneling on 
the new branch of the Great Gun railroad had unearthed the 
treasure. They little dreamed of the value of the discovery 
to science. Some of them in their ignorance imagined the 
remains to be those of a man recently buried, and thought that 
they had unearthed a recent crime, so perfect was the body. 
But when they touched the figure they found it to be stone. 
It must have petrified instantly, for the flesh was still on the 
bones and the hair on the head was so perfect that the single 
hairs could be counted. 

Professor Goodsir was the first to arrive and he instantly 
recognized the great value of the discovery. 

“It long antedates the stone age,” said he audibly as he 
viewed the wonderful discovery. 

“And begorra, was there an age when men were made of 
stones?” inquired Pat 0’Shaughnessy in open mouthed as¬ 
tonishment. He was slightly deaf. 

“What ignorance!” exclaimed Bill Staples in manifest 
disgust. “Don’t you see one of them there before you. What 

[85] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


did yon think he was made of?” Bill prided himself on his 
learning and wisdom. 

“But what did he live on?” queried the incredulous Pat. 

“Yerra, what did he have to live on?” replied Bill, in 
somewhat ambiguous phrase. He evidently believed with 
Talleyrand that language was given for the concealment of 
thought. 

“Musha what do ye mane at all, at all?” asked Pat, who 
evidently disagreed with the great French diplomat and 
would have amended his famous dictum, by saying that 
language was given to conceal the absence of thought — as 
frequently happens to famous orators. 

“He manes all right,” interposed Jim Dooley, who had 
not yet spoken. 

“Does he mane that they didn’t ate nothing or that they 
didn’t have nothin’ to ate in ordher for to live?” persisted 
the aspiring archaeologist, not very particular about the ar¬ 
rangement of his phrases. 

“And who knows whether they had anything to ate in 
these far behind times. Oyeh! who can tell ? But sure 
enough he didn’t have to have anything. Can’t you see that 
for yourself?” Bill was supposed to have a remarkable head 
for seeing through a millstone, but this stone man was a 
little too much for him. He felt that he was fast in danger 
of losing his fame for omniscience. This stone man he found 
a sore puzzle to him, which probably accounted for his lack 
of lucidity of expression on this occasion. 

“Let’s ax’ the savvy about it,” said Pat, the incredulous. 

And they did. 

“No, no. Men were not made out of stone, my good 
man, ’ ’ condescendingly replied Professor Goodsir. 

Bill Staples who took this to be a direct impeachment of 
his own learning and veracity at the same time, felt nettled. 
He chafed considerably under this flat contradiction in the 

[«] 


THE MISSING LINK 


presence of his companions among whom he passed for a 
savant. 

“But men are made of mud,” he said a little testily. 

“Begorra, I’m afraid your name is mud,” interpolated 
the incorrigible Pat in an aside to his companions — sotto 
voce. And the manner in which he winked and shook his 
head was eloquence itself. 

“No not of mud exactly, though that might express it. 
The analysis of the human frame discloses the presence of 
many constituent elements,” replied the Professor loftily — 
grandly. 

“Well he’s made of clay anyhow. The science people 
admit it,” replied Bill, proud to display his knowledge of 
science. “And clay hardened is stone; isn’t it?” he asked 
triumphantly. 

“Quite true,” replied the Professor blandly. “But men 
were never made of stone. They become petrified sometimes 
after death.” 

“I told you so,” said Pat triumphantly. “This here chap 
was one of those hardhearted customers that turn to stone 
even while they’re alive.” 

“No, no, no. This man turned to stone after his death,” 
corrected the Professor. 

“Begad, yes!” said Jim Dooley. “There was a ’uman 
in the Bible ’at was turned into salt. I fergit what her name 
was.” 

“Oh yes;” said the Professor, smiling benignly on the 
group. “That foolish story about Lot’s wife. That is sheer 
nonsense, my friend. That is one of the Bible myths.” 

“I never heard tell of any ‘mits’ in the Bible before,” 
chimed in the archaeologist. “I thought it was only when 
men begin to shovel snow in the winter or when they drive 
horses that they began to ware mits.” 

“My dear friend,” replied the savant, “I mean that 
this is one of the impossible things which we read in the 

[87] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


bible, one of the things which never could have happened.” 
The professor was one of those men to whom is was a pleasure 
to dispense knowledge as they went. 

“And why cudn’t ’t hav’ happen’d?” asked Pat bridling 
up, and taking up Jim Dooley’s quarrel without as much as 
by your leave to Jim. 

“Because it is against the laws of nature, my good 
friend,” good-naturedly replied the Professor, turning to the 
archaeologist. 

“The laws ov nature” echoed Pat, half in bewilderment, 
half in contempt. “But this man became a stone, ye say, 
whin he was dead. Where’s the diffrince betune ’em? The 
body’s the same dead or alive, except the sowl. And she was 
dead, I believe,” he added reflectively. 

Professor Goodsir was slightly staggered. He was not 
looking for dialectics, much less for logic. 

‘ ‘ The chemical action of the earth, ’ ’ he replied, ‘ ‘ and the 
natural forces with which the dead body may have come in 
contact have hardened it into the substance of stone — just 
as fire hardens clay into brick or stone.” 

“You don’t mane to tell us,” said Pat, stepping back in 
horror — real or assumed — that this yere chap was burnt 
down in the hot place. Heaven save us!” and he eyed the 
precious fossil askance, as if he expected to see the blue 
sulphur flames. “But no,” he added, as if trying to reason 
himself into courage, 11 How could he get out ? ’ ’ 

The professor was puzzled to know whether it was fear, 
fun or ignorance; but concluding that it must be the latter, 
he smiled commiseratingly on the group. 

“Don’t fear hell fire, my good man. Nothing more fright¬ 
ful than the chemical action of the earth or the mineral 
substances with which it has come in contact has hardened 
this body into stone.” 

“I don’t see,” grumbled the archaeologist between his 
teeth, “what diffrince there is betune the earth changin’ this 

[ 88 ] 


THE MISSING LINK 


man into stone and th’ other elemints changin’ the ’uman 
int’ salt.” 

"This, my friend, has evidently come into contact with 
minerals of a very powerful chemical action and there may 
have been some properties in the body itself, some condition 
of the remains which invoked the chemical action,” said the 
Professor. 

"But yer honor minshin’d something about the fire 
dhryin’ or hard’nin’ the mud. There’s no min’ral business 
there, is there?” 

The Professor felt himself growing warm under his laun- 
dried collar although the breeze was bracing. It was evident 
this man, Pat, was a sceptic and did not swallow down without 
a question the scientific dictum of every great man. 

"I don’t see,” pursued the archaeologist, seeing the 
Professor was silent, "why it wud be transgressin’ the laws 
ov nature for the elemints t’ change the’ ’uman int’ salt, any 
more than it ’d be for another elemint to change this chap to 
shtone.” 

"But your Bible calls the changing of the woman into 
salt a miracle,” protested the Professor. 

"A merakle; did ye say?” Pat sharply rejoined. "Now 
I’m not much on readin’ the Bible meself; but for all that I 
don’t b’lieve it ses a word about a merakle. It only ses it 
happin’d.” 

As the Professor, somewhat crestfallen at having been 
confronted with the charge of belying the Bible, walked re¬ 
flectively away, the seer said, as if to cheer up Bill Staples 
for his discomfiture, "Bill, wud all his larnin, I don’t b’lieve 
the savvy knows any more about ’t ’n we do.” 


[ 89 ] 


CHAPTER IX 


Scientific Conference 

B Y THE time George arrived the fossil treasure had been 
removed to the great hall of the Lyceum at Stonefelt. 
All the savants of any note, east or west were 
present, or had been present and given their opinions; all or 
nearly all agreeing in the importance of the discovery. All 
had investigated the wonderful phenomenon. It had been 
carefully examined and scrutinized and microscoped and 
telescoped. The younger members were especially enthu¬ 
siastic. 

A new era had dawned as they stood on the threshold of 
life. A representative of Professor Hansel of Trumbull in 
Switzerland, who was the alter ego of the world-renowned 
Professor, and who shared his views and almost his fame, 
happened to be travelling in the United States at the time 
and was present at the gathering. 

It was, -of course, an informal meeting — partook nothing 
of the nature of a convention or a congress — and savants 
were coming and going all the time. They had seen, won¬ 
dered, and been made captives of science. Those, however, 
who represented the highest knowledge and who stood highest 
as authorities in science, remained for a more thorough and 
searching inquiry into the nature of the discovery, and with 
a view to making the importance of the discovery known to 
the whole world. 

George first inquired the views of Professor Knowseur. 
That magnificent embodiment of scientific wisdom and knowl¬ 
edge beamed condescendingly on the inquirer. 

[ 90 ] 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


‘'What did he, Professor Knowseur, consider was the 
significance of the discovery, was it ? ” said the renowned sa¬ 
vant, by way of preface to his answer. “Why sir, the im¬ 
portance of the discovery was inestimable; the benefits to 
biological investigation, incalculable; the discovery far out¬ 
stripped all others in the realm of paleontolgy. The impulse 
it was about to give to further biological speculation could be 
appreciated better ten years from now than today. Would 
that Darwin had lived to see this day! Would that Huxley 
might have witnessed this glorious discovery! Darwin now 
took his place alongside of Newton — there before them was 
the confirmation of his well-reasoned speculation — the proof 
of his grand generalization — the most confirmatory evidence 
of his great hypothesis. Hypothesis! Why it was no longer 
hypothesis. This discovery had lifted it out of the rank of 
hypothesis and made it a clearly established, incontrovertible 
fact. Beyond all manner of doubt, the missing link had at 
last been found.’’ 

Other distinguished professors gave like testimony. Little 
groups of savants might be seen everywhere throughout the 
town. In twos and threes and fours they might be met on the 
sidewalks, in the hotel lobbies at the railroad depot, on the 
stairway of the Lyceum, in the lobby, before the doorway, 
and in the Lyceum itself — all discussing the famous dis¬ 
covery. George attached himself to one or two of these groups 
in succession and everywhere he found the enthusiasm the 
same. The precious treasure itself was safely guarded in an 
apartment of the Lyceum and special watchers were appointed 
to relieve each other in their charge over its safe keeping. 
Only the most trusted were selected for the task and for them 
it was a labor of love. The newcomers were admitted after 
much ceremony and only by ticket from the committee ap¬ 
pointed on the day of its removal to the Lyceum. 

A general meeting for the exchange of views and a free 
discussion -of the event so momentous to science was announced 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


for eight o’clock of the evening of the day on which George 
and his companions arrived, and the interest was not only 
unprecedented but the enthusiasm was intense. There were 
no speakers on this occasion — merely a chairman and secre¬ 
tary elected and brief rules drawn up for the methods of 
carrying on the discussion. Questions might be freely asked 
and answered — the chairman was simply for the purpose of 
keeping order and that there might be as thorough a deter¬ 
mination of the views of the speakers as possible. 

Professor Granier was elected chairman. 

“The segmentation of the vertebral column differs 
slightly from that of man and also from the Hylobates and 
the Gyropitheca, and consequently it is not easy to place it — 
in point -of evolution,” gravely asserted Professor Knowenthal 
in answer to the chairman’s inquiry of his opinion upon that 
point. 

“Have you carefully examined the dentition and the 
structure of the nostrils, Professor Knowseur?” said he in 
turn, turning to that distinguished savant who was a specialist 
on that subject. 

“I have taken considerable pains to examine these points 
closely and they have somewhat puzzled me,” replied the 
learned professor. 

“In what particular?” 

“I find that the nostril in its structure resembles more 
the Catarrhine than the Plattyrhine ape, while there seems 
to be neither four nor six, but five — just think of it ? — five 
— premolars in each jaw.” 

“Bless me! That is most wonderful,” exclaimed the 
chairman. 

“This is most extraordinary. Have you examined mi¬ 
nutely ? According to all the laws of evolution this dentition 
is impossible,” said Professor Knowenthal. 

“Nevertheless it is a fact.” 

“If this be so we have a most wonderful discovery — 

[ 92 ] 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


doubtless nothing less than the missing link; for this change 
in the dentition and the nostril structure must have other 
accompaniments. This discovery grows more and more in 
importance,” and Professor Knowenthal’s eyes bulged out 
with wonder so that his spectacles stood in imminent danger 
of being shifted from his capacious nose bridge. 

‘ ‘ I suggest that a committee of three be appointed by the 
chair to go now and examine whether my statement is correct, ’ ’ 
said Professor Knowseur. 

“We do not question your statement; we are only 
astonished at it, ’ ’ said the chairman. 

“Nevertheless as it is an important matter — a paramount 
point in establishing its antiquity and the place in the evo¬ 
lutional series which this unexpected specimen holds, it is 
well to have my statement corroborated,” urged Professor 
Knowseur. 

And the committee of three was appointed by the chair, 
which duly returned and corroborated the Professor’s state* 

ment. 

“Have you noticed the extraordinary capacity of the 
brain case ? ” — this was the way in which Dr. Solomon, who 
put the question, always spoke of the skull. 

“Certainly; certainly. Who could fail to notice it?” 
replied Professor Knowenthal, the gentleman addressed. 

“It is far more capacious than that of the Neanderthal .’ 7 

“Far more capacious; far more capacious. And it is of 
far higher antiquity,” said the learned Professor, tapping his 
snuff box. 

‘ ‘ Its capacity can not be less than ninety-six cubic inches 
at least,” said Dr. Solomon, whose specialty was braincase 
capacity. 

“I am entirely of your opinion. It upsets the theory 
that there is a steady advance in the size of the human skull 
as civilization advances.” 

“It conforms, however, with the statement of M. Broca, 

[ 93 ] . 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 

» 


that the skulls of the troglodytes were far larger than those 
of modern Frenchmen/ ’ said the chairman. 

A slight titter went round the room at the expense of the 
modern Frenchmen; but it was confined to the younger and 
more thoughtless members of the meeting. 

“The importance of the discovery can not be overesti¬ 
mated/’ said the chairman when he had suppressed the 
levity. 

“Certainly not. It brings us a full century nearer to the 
solution of the question of man’s exact place in nature, and 
will make us acquainted with his immediate ancestors.” It 
was Dr. Solomon who spoke and there was general applause. 

‘ ‘ But what of its antiquity ? Where is Professor Petra ? ’ ’ 
asked the chairman. 

“Here,” said that important geologist. His air was that 
of a young man who was satisfied with himself and satisfied 
with the world of science at least. 

‘ ‘ Surely Darwin was wise when he said that the ancestor 
of man would be found in the Eocene epoch,” said the chair¬ 
man, with an interrogative rather than a declarative emphasis 
on his words. 

“Assuredly this can not be more recent than the upper 
lias,” suggested Professor Knowenthal. 

“Upper Lias be hanged!” said Professor Petra. “It is 
not an hour younger than the Lower Trias.” 

A murmur of applause went round the room. 

“I would be willing to bet my laboratory that it will be 
found to date back at least to the Eocene epoch,” said Dr. 
Solomon encouraged by the previous enthusiasm. 

“Who has examined the stratum in which it was 
found?” inquired the chairman. 

“I have,” exclaimed Dr. Petra. “There can be no doubt 
of its antiquity. ’ ’ 

“How do you estimate it?” 

“Where do you place it?” 

[ 94 ] 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


“How old do you call it?” 

“What is the character of the deposit?” 

It seemed as if the whole hall was speaking at once. 

“My friends,” cried Dr. Petra in exultation, “the 
troglodyte is but of yesterday compared with it. ’ ’ 

“I told you so,” exclaimed many Professors at the same 
time. 

“The Neanderthal is young in comparison.” 

“Precisely as I reckoned it,” said Professor Knowseur. 

“All quaternary deposits must sink back into second 
place in this case,” continued Dr. Petra. 

All were expectation. 

“It is a contemporary of the Belemnite,” he concluded 
dramatically. 

The hall rang with applause at this announcement. 

The enthusiasm ran high. On all sides it seemed to be 
conceded that science had made gigantic strides forward 
within the past three days. Darwin was vindicated. 
Doubters were silenced. And doubtless could the stone car¬ 
cass that caused all this commotion and enthusiasm come to 
life, or could he have realized what he had done for this 
earnest body of scientists, he would have unhesitatingly 
declared that life was worth living—or at least that death was 
worth dying—especially at so remote a period of the planet’s 
history. As Bill Staples said, ‘ ‘ This man found that this day 
—111,000,000,000,000 years after his death was really the 
happiest day of his life. In fact,” said he, “I don’t know 
but to be of sech use to science and t’ make the science 
fellers feel so good, I might be willin’ to have lived and died 
in the Cambrian days an’ been buried all these years and 
sinturies, and ehras, and ipochs and ehyons of incal’lable 
and inconcaivable time, away under the rocks unbeknown to 
any one; for his was truly a great and glorious resurrection. ’ ’ 

Still throughout all this enthusiasm three or four mem¬ 
bers sat wholly unmoved. They seemed to be neither 

[ 95 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


convinced by the evidence, nor moved by the rhetoric, nor 
touched by the enthusiasm. In fact they were still in¬ 
credulous. And their names, too, stood in the forefront of 
science as unmatched in their specialties. The certainty 
which took possession of the souls of the others, did not 
reach their judgments. They had already expressed their 
opinions about the importance of the discovery and its value 
to any science that claimed to be accurate. But they found 
the tide of enthusiasm to be so strong that their efforts to 
stem it would be fruitless and might only make matters 
worse. They had already incurred the wrath of many dis¬ 
tinguished members of the present gathering by the doubts 
they had so freely expressed. They wisely concluded that 
in the present state of enthusiasm of the assembled scientists 
it would be worse than useless to remonstrate; and when it 
was unanimously voted by the others to hold a mass meeting 
tomorrow morning at ten o’clock and draft an address to 
the world at large declaring the importance and magnitude 
of the wonderful discovery, they mentally resolved to be 
absent; perhaps to draw up a counter declaration for the 
expression of their own views. In an unfortunate moment, 
however, Professor Knowenthal’s eye rested upon Professor 
Wiseman, unmoved in the midst of the enthusiasm. 

“Eh? What you now tinks, mein Herr Wiceman?”, 
inquired that redoubtable scientist. 

They had met before and crossed swords at science 
congresses in Germany and England; and Professor Wiseman 
deemed it inhospitable on his native heath to carry on a 
controversy with the pugnacious veteran. 

“I do not care to give an opinion just at present,” 
quietly replied Professor Wiseman. 

‘ ‘ What ? You yet have some doubts, maype ? ” 

“I am certainly not convinced that much value should 
be attached to the discovery of these remains.” 

[ 96 ] 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


There was a general consternation and pity throughout 
the hall. 

‘ ‘ Oho! Oho ! So mein Herr Wiceman does not pelieve 
vat he sees mit his own eyes.” — and Professor Knowenthal 
laughed derisively but yet goodnaturedly as became one who 
had the best of the argument and could afford to be gen¬ 
erous. 

“And what tinks mein Herr Tacetur?”, said he turning 
to that distinguished scientist. “Is he, too, reactionism?” 

“I think we should, to safeguard the name of science, 
wait until more sober moments before venturing to give to 
the world an opinion on this discovery. This hotheaded 
enthusiasm is not the best atmosphere for the growth of 
healthy opinions,” replied the scientist quietly. A murmur 
of dissent, it was, that went around the hall this time. 

“So-o-o-o? Perhaps you will refuse to endorse the 
opinions of these distinguished gentlemens — the pink and 
flower of das world scientific today.” 

“These gentlemen are entitled to their opinions; but I 
think I am entitled to mine. And in the name of science I 
protest, and in the name of truth I protest, against giving 
to the world views which may be erroneous, and which are 
most likely to be, because so hastily arrived at.” 

“Ho! Ho! Herr Tacetur thinks we have been too 
hasty,” and he glared around at the audience and bulged 
out his eyes and pursed his lips impressively — as he 
imagined. 

“I think we should follow the wise maxim of Gratiolet 
in these matters. ’ ’ 

“And what may Herr Gratiolet have said upon such 
matters,” he asked in a more subdued manner. 

“His advice is, I think, wise. It as you must know. 
Professor: II est dangereux dans les sciences de conclure 
trop vite’; 1 and I think our distinguished body has arrived 

1 Too rapid conclusions in science are dangerous. 

[ 97 ] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


at its conclusions too rapidly, ” said Professor Tacetur with 
much energy. 

“You vish to be obscurantism, perhaps?” persevered 
the Professor a little abashed at the quotation so directly 
against the hasty conclusions of the meeting. “You vill, no 
doubt, soon be advocating the creations of speeches (species) 
and preaching das Gospel von Adam.”, and the Professor’s 
laugh was now frankly derisive. 

“I move,” said Dr. Petra, rising, “that instead of wait¬ 
ing until tomorrow morning, we here and now draw up our 
manifesto to the world on this subject.” 

“Good! Good! was heard from all sides except from the 
little group of reactionists and the motion was seconded and 
carried. 

Thus it was that the enthsusiasts were provoked into 
then and there drafting a statement of their views regarding 
the new discovery and its transcendant importance to 
science, because of the light it threw on the high antiquity 
of man and the position which the fossil remains held be¬ 
tween the human family and the ape family. 

In all probability had there been no doubt thrown upon 
the importance of the discovery or no opposition to the views 
expressed, the body of distinguished gentlemen would have 
remained content to have given out, each his own personal 
and private views in the matter as the result of tomorrow’s 
conference; but this slight difference of opinion had made 
Herr Knowenthal determined, and Dr. Knowseur was his 
spokesman. 

“I propose, my distinguished colleagues,” said Professor 
Knowseur, “that we draw up a statement in the name of 
this distinguished body and give it to the press for publica¬ 
tion. ’ ’ 

“Capital idea!” said the chairman. “The day for 
science is a great one — perhaps the greatest in its annals; 
and this superb discovery should be made memorable.” 

[98] 


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The idea was taken up with all the more enthusiasm on 
account of the attitude of the reactionists — as they were 
styled; and George Edwards was selected by the assemblage 
to draw up an elaborate statement setting forth the discovery, 
its tremendous importance, its wide-reaching influence on 
future studies and investigations; and giving the unanimous 
conclusions of the assemblage on the antiquity and the com¬ 
parative anatomy of the fossil as well as the relative position it 
held in the evolutional series — showing how far it was human 
and how far it was simian. 

George was selected because of his distinguished ability 
in the literary field which was recognized by all, and the 
proof of which was that he had been chosen the ©ontinuator 
of Whewell. But George unfortunately was not convinced 
by what he had seen. He had not had time or opportunity to 
make investigations on his own behalf; and at the same time 
he was not very deeply impressed with the slender grounds 
on which the enthusiasm seemed to be based. In fact he had 
grave misgivings about the whole matter, and he was in full 
sympathy and accord with Dr. Wiseman, Professor Tacetur, 
Professor Smith and a few others, who had been called 
obscurantists. He was of opinion that the conclusions had 
run far — very far, indeed — in advance of the evidence. 
It was true he had not been able to examine the fossil remains 
very closely. And it was true on the other hand there was 
a profound archaeologist of world-wide fame, gravely guiding 
enthusiasm up to the boiling point. There was a renowned 
geologist, testifying unhesitatingly, nay jauntily, to the clas¬ 
sification of the stratum in which the remains had been found. 
There was a distinguished — at least in the press — biologist 
and comparative anatomist, whose views George had always 
held in the deepest reverence and veneration; and there were 
two -other distinguished men — men whose names were house¬ 
hold words in the scientific world, all shaping the enthusiasm 
and by fresh announcement of what they had seen with their 

[ 99 ] 

> 

-> > 

> » - 
) > 


> > > 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


own eyes adding to its volume. Still George’s sympathy was 
wholly with the two or three reactionists and ‘ ‘ obscurantists ’ ’ 
who believed that the scientists were arriving at conclusions 
“trop vite.” The process was precisely the reverse of what 
he regarded as scientific. 

However, he had decided to wait and examine at his 
leisure the fossil remains, and question it — in a scientific 
sense — as to its origin, its history, its antiquity, its grade in 
the family of bipedal vertebrates, whether simian or human; 
and in advance of this private investigation, he did not choose 
to commit himself to any view, much less to draft any state¬ 
ments which should voice the high pitch of the present en¬ 
thusiasm. He therefore politely declined the honor on the 
ground of his late arrival, and his utter unacquaintance with 
the special features of the petrified specimen. There were 
others, he suggested, who had closely examined it, and he 
advocated Professor Knowseur in his stead. 

“You forget,” said George, “that I have but just arrived 
and that I have not had an opportunity of making myself 
acquainted with virtues of the human or simian, or simio- 
human, figure that has come to us so unexpectedly from the 
realm of time.” 

His objection was regarded as valid and his suggested 
substitute was chosen in his stead. 

Professor Knowseur drafted immediately a rough outline 
of the statement which was to be sent to the press, and the 
substance of it was as follows: 

We, the undersigned scientists of the United 
States of America, of Canada, England and Ger¬ 
many have the distinguished honor to announce that 
we have investigated in a most thoroughly scientific 
manner the petrified remains discovered at Stone- 
felt, and have no hesitation in declaring the 
following facts:—1st: The antiquity of the fossil 

[ 100 ] 

< 

1 < < 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


remains is proved by all methods of science to be 
no later than the Eocene epoch. 2nd: The con¬ 
formation of the braincase, which is unlike any¬ 
thing now in existence or anything which 
paleontology has hitherto furnished, clearly proves 
that the remains hold a position between the lowest 
species of man and the most advanced species of 
ape, and therefore it can not be other than the 
missing link. 3rd: The same conclusion is impera¬ 
tively compelled by the peculiar dentition dis¬ 
covered, as well as by the nasal structure; both of 
which hold a middle place exactly between man and 
the Gyropitheca family. These points are estab¬ 
lished beyond question. GREAT IS DARWIN: 
TODAY HIS THEORY IS PROVEN TRUE. 

At this point Professor Knowseur, who was reading his 
statement, was interrupted by an outburst of applause which 
shook the building, and the assembly broke out into pro¬ 
longed cheers. 

Before the cheers had subsided, a messenger entered the 
hall in haste and called for Professor George Edwards, and 
on George’s presenting himself, the messenger placed a sealed 
packet in his hand. At the same time he delivered to George 
a smaller note with a similar seal. The smaller note was 
addressed to himself. He tore it open and read: 

Dear George (My Sometime Friend):— 

I send this accompanying document to you because I 
am not acquainted with any of the distinguished savants 
who have honored Stonefelt with their presence, except 
yourself. The statement in the accompanying document 
is true beyond all question, and should any of the dis- 

[ ioi l 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


tinguished scientists feel inclined to doubt the matter, the 
prison records and other documents on the subject are 
open to their examination. 

Your old friend, 

Sarx Campbell. 

George wonderingly tore open the seal of the large 
package. He found maps and other documents, and among 
them one in Sarx Campbell’s own handwriting. He hurriedly 
glanced at the letter for evidently letter it was, and here is 
what he read: 

To the Renowned Scientists Now Assembled at Stonefelt. 

It becomes my painful duty to inform your distinguished 
body that you are wholly misled with regard to the nature 
and character of the petrified remains—or corpse—found 
near Stonefelt last week. There can be no possible doubt 
that the body that has been unearthed in the excavation 
is that of a man who had been for many years an inmate 
of this prison, and who died in it about seventeen years 
ago. He had been incarcerated for a disgraceful, unmen¬ 
tionable crime; and as he came of a distinguished family, 
he wished to hide from the world his disgrace and his last 
resting place. Consequently, at his own request he was 
buried, as the prison records show, at a depth of fifteen 
feet in a shale deposit at a point precisely a 0 north and 
x° west (prison code). I have gone over the grounds 
today with an expert surveyor and verified the spot. The 
prison records leave no doubt of this. Enclosed herewith 
I send a certified copy of the case, of the burial, of the 
survey, and maps taken at the time of burial, etc. I shall 
be happy to place the originals at your disposal should 
you deem it advisable to call at the prison where they are 
carefully kept. 

I have been absent from town and returned only last 
evening. When I learned of the excitement, I made all 
possible haste to disabuse your renowned assemblage. 
Regretting that my absence precluded the possibility of 

[ 102 ] 


SCIENTIFIC CONFERENCE 


my correcting the unfortunate mistake sooner, I beg to 
remain 

With great respect, 


Nov. 5, 189—. 


Your obedient servant, 

Sarx Campbell, Supt. 
Dammerno Prison, Stonefelt. 1 


George was astounded at this information. He felt all 
his enthusiasm for science oozing out at his fingers’ ends as 
he read the extraordinary news. Pie had been almost carried 
off his feet by the wave which swept over the entire body 
around him with two or three exceptions. In fact he had been 
obliged to do violence to himself in order to be able to 
decline the honor of drafting the important statement to the 
world at large on the glorious discovery of science. To be so 
intimately connected with so important a discovery was to 
make his name immortal; and it was only his sense of truth 
and right and honor that withheld him from accepting the 
honor. How thankful he now was! 

He beckoned Professor Knowenthal to him and quietly 
put the document in his hand. 

“I fear there has been a great mistake,” said George. 
“The remains seem to be modern. Read this.” 

Professor Knowenthal’s eye caught the seal and his 
enthusiasm vanished in a twinkling. His countenance fell as 
he read the first words; and when he read the explanation his 
jaw dropped and he stood with mouth open, looking into 
space. At last he recovered sufficiently from his shock to say: 

“Who brought this? Who wrote this?” 

“You can see by the seals that it is from the State Prison 
here. There is no doubt of the authenticity of the document. 
The Superintendent is a particular friend of mine and I am 

1 The press reported a disillusionment of this kind which occurred some 
years ago in Kansas, much to the consternation of enthusiastic Darwinians. 

[103] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


well acquainted with his handwriting. There is no mistake 
about his signature. 

‘ ‘ I could not believe it, my friend. There must have was 
some great mistook somewhere.” 

The professor was completely dumfounded by the news, 
and when confused his English came less readily. 

“I fear not. The only mistake there seems to have been 
was in the misinterpretation of the character of the find. 
But we can inquire at the prison and examine the documents 
for ourselves,” said George conclusively. 

Professor Knowenthal groaned. 

And George was right. The examination of the prison 
records and a later examination of the shale deposit showed 
that there could be no manner of doubt, about the Super¬ 
intendent’s explanation. And thus was another glorious fact 
of science cruelly smothered at its birth, or as Bill Staples, 
who never until now had been able to conquer his grudge 
against Professor Knowseur, phrased it: “Anither pregnant 
fact of science died a-bornin’.” 


[ I0 4] 


CHAPTER X 


Returning Home 

I T NEED hardly be said that the second discovery totally 
eclipsed the first. Indeed no one was so anxious to have the 
first completely obliterated from history as the very men 
who, but an hour ago, were so clamorous to have its glories 
proclaimed to the ends of the earth. 

The absurd denouement had rather a sickening effect upon 
George Edwards. The science for which he had given up his 
Christian faith, his mother, the woman of his love, was treating 
him to some strange experiences. He was forced to confess 
that on close acquaintance it was daily becoming less attrac¬ 
tive. Now that he had been admitted to the very arcana of 
the scientific world and seen its inner workings he began to 
distrust all the dicta of science. The unreliability of his 
assistants upon whom so much depended in his great work, 
had disgusted him — he could not conscientiously give to the 
world as truth statements resting on so insecure foundations. 
And now, here were the very savants themselves — the men 
of science whose names to him had been sacred — of whom he 
spake only with bated breath — the men whose opinions to 
him were the very gospel of science — whose every uttered 
statement had been to him as an article of his scientific creed 
— and had he not seen them now at short range, dealing with 
real facts, and beheld with his own eyes the entire wretched 
business? And this was how scientific opinion was made! 
What enthusiasm over nothing! What a farce from start 
to finish! How quickly — alas! trop vite, as Professor 
Tacetur had said —they had jumped to their ridiculous 

05] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


conclusions! They saw in the discovery precisely what they 
wanted to see and were not at all scrupulous about the 
corroboration of their views before announcing them as facts. 
They were mistaken about the antiquity of the alluvial de¬ 
posit— about the nature of the fossil remains as they called 
it — about the paleontology — the physiology, the biology, 
the anatomy—even, of what proved fareially enough to be 
merely a recent corpse. They had not deliberately prevari¬ 
cated; but the results would have been the same as if they 
had, had not the timely intervention of the prison super¬ 
intendent turned their solemn and lofty Scientific conclave 
into a ridiculous farce. H-ow untrustworthy then, must all 
scientific conclusions in the region of speculation be regarded, 
since here fact itself proved to be but proven fiction. Two 
settled convictions remained present in his mind: The facts 
of science were far more unreliable than the facts of history, 
perhaps even of fable; and next the opinions of scientists 
could not be relied upon since scientists stood ready to read 
into facts real or supposed, their own preconceived views and 
theories. It was sickening — the whole wretched business. 
And this was what men called science ! Science — he bitterly 
reflected — so far from being the mistress who keeps the keys 
of knowledge is but the mere merry-andrew of learning. 

And then the Cardiff giant in all its varied history came 
to his mind — the world imposed upon by a huge hoax, a 
gigantic imposture, which would in all probability never 
have been detected but for the confession of the impostor 
himself. He recalled other instances too, local in their extent, 
but just as real, in which clumsy imitations of the Cardiff 
giant had deceived the local scientists and brought science 
into contempt. It is worse he thought than Dickens’ fiction 
of “Bill Stumps His Mark” — worse than Walter Scott’s 
description in The Antiquary. And he recalled that ridicu¬ 
lous scene in which all the romantic dreams of Jonathan 
Oldbuck about Roman camp discoveries with Julius Agricola 

[ 106 ] 


RETURNING HOME 


standing in the Pretorium and so forth, were rudely and 
farcically terminated by Edie Ochiltree’s: “About this bit 
bouroock, your honor; I mind the bigging o’t.” Did he not 
see with his own eyes the counterpart of it in science’s farce- 
comedy — enacted just now with real actors on the stage ? 

And this he thought bitterly, and this is the way in 
which scientific opinion is made! What proof have we — 
what assurance that those other boasted truths of science 
which do not admit of verification do not rest on the same 
grounds as that on which stood the missing link? Was it not 
a mere accident — no, real providence — that rescued science 
from its unseen danger -— unseen it is true — but which 
should have been foreseen? And how many other “truths” 
resting on similar foundations were not thus rescued ? Had it 
not been for the timely intervention of the superintendent, this 
absurd story would have taken the world by storm, — heralded 
on the wings of the press — accepted by a credulous world 
which questions nothing that comes to it in the name of 
science; and the gigantic absurdity would have settled down 
quietly and taken its place among the accepted facts and 
conclusions of science which were incontrovertible! And 
once it had so taken its place what chance was there that it 
should ever be dislodged? And then how many accepted 
conclusions — yea, even facts — stood on no firmer basis. 
They were now accepted by the world and who could now 
gainsay them? And his heart sank within him as he gazed 
at the sad deplorable helplessness of the world so completely 
at the mercy of the speculative scientists. And then the re¬ 
curring — ever-recurring — thought, that for this he had 
rashly flung aside all that was good and beautiful in his life. 

There was for him just one consoling thought throughout 
it all —he had taken no part in the imposture. That was 
the one bright spot in all the darkness. But would he, when 
the time came for his own personal investigation, have dis¬ 
covered the worthlessness of the huge humbug? Of this he 

[107] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


could not be sure. Eminent biologist though he was, was he 
capable of determining the real value of the wonderful dis¬ 
covery as it had been farcically styled? He could not assure 
himself that he would. And if he could not offer this assur¬ 
ance to himself, what scientist could say that he might not be 
mistaken ? Assuredly no one. For he stood quite as high in 
his departments as the most renowned scientists stood in 
theirs. And if this were so — and it was, without a shadow 
of doubt — what was the entire sum of the knowledge said to 
be accumulated in the department of speculative science worth 
anyway ? It might be truth — yes, and it might just as easily 
be falsehood. It was simply the turn of a die. There was 
no guarantee whatever that would ensure truth; and to a 
mind like George’s, on fire with the desire for truth, this 
was an agony. And what was more, even when the scientist 
happened to blunder on truth he was no more able to say that 
it was truth than he was to say falsehood was truth. As¬ 
suredly my Lord Bacon was right. It was folly .to enter the 
field of speculation at all. It was all a piece of guesswork; 
and you were not one whit more sure you were right when 
you guessed the truth, than you were when you guessed false. 

Still it was an exceeding satisfaction to him to know 
that he had been on the side of Professor Wiseman, Professor 
Tacetur and Professor Smith and the others who had resisted 
the enthusiasm throughout. Here, he thought, were men with 
the true scientific spirit and at the same time with the true 
critical instinct — men who loved science for its own sake — 
for the sake of truth — and who did not wish to use it merely 
for the sake of bolstering up a favorite theory — men who 
shrank not from applying to science itself the scientific method , 
as it was called — the same rigid scrutiny and exacting criti¬ 
cism which science insisted on applying to other departments 
of knowledge. These men were the salt of science. Such men 
were the hope of science as well as its crown. They never 
put forward anything as fact or certainty of conclusion con- 

[■io®] 


RETURNING HOME 


cerning which there was any doubt. They did not undertake 

* 1 0utcry t0 browb eat other men into an acceptance 
ot their favored theories. They raised no false cry of intel¬ 
lectuality in order to dragoon the world into acceptance of 
their views. Such men were the safeguard and warranty to 
the world in its implicit acceptance of what as specialists they 

might give forth as scientific truth. And how few there were 
of them! 

And yet, here too — was there not danger ? While their 
scientific integrity and honor were unimpeachable, could the 
same be said -of the infallibility of their judgments? Were 
these as secure as their honor and good faith ? Had he not 
just heard men whose names stood as high in the scientific 
world as theirs, ranting in the rankest terms about the para¬ 
mount importance of the gigantic humbug ? — and doubtless 
some of them were sincere enough. This was the very mischief 
of it. What then the guarantee, where there was no process 
of verification whatever, to test the truth of their wisdom? 
The whole foundation seemed to tumble from under his 
scientific castles and the whole scientific field of speculation 
seemed to him to be nothing more or less than a mere mass of 
guesswork. Where then was scientific truth to be found in 
these matters ? Assuredly, assuredly, a thousand times, Bacon 
was right — such speculations were fruitless and bootless. 

And were the enthusiasts of a preceding generation in 
any better condition? Assuredly no. Nay rather were they 
not worse ? For did they not have the success of their theories 
at heart?—their zeal in the propagation of their theories— 
their pet theories — was intense — hence all the more easily 
were they a prey to delusion, deception and imposture ? Did 
they not often read into their facts meanings which could not 
be found there—but which they wanted to find there—like so 
many of their friends at Stonefelt? And was not this the 
very charge which had been made so frequently against them 
— that they fitted their facts to suit their theories — that they 

[i°9] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


conveniently overlooked all else except what suited their 
special needs and views? Nay was not this the specially 
peculiar sin of Darwin himself — that he selected not by a 
natural selection but an artificial and vicious selection the 
phenomena which seemed to favor his theory, and resolutely 
closed his eyes to all else ? 

These were the thoughts that absorbed George’s whole 
attention on his homeward journey. His frame of mind was 
not an enviable one as he stepped aboard the Cortland Street 
ferry boat for Jersey City, homeward bound. He forgot 
completely where he was and what his surroundings. He 
was totally oblivious of everything in life but the immediate 
subject of his thoughts — when — suddenly, a crash — a cry; 
and then many cries of horror restored him to a realization 
of things. He turned quickly and followed the rush of 
people to the lower deck. It took some little time before he 
was able to reach the scene of the disaster, so dense was the 
crowding. It was difficult to understand what the danger or 
calamity had been — whether to his own ferry boat or to 
some boat with which his had come into collision. The crash 
was evidently that of his boat striking another; and now the 
people were crowding to the side of the boat in such numbers 
that it was impossible for him to reach the point of the 
disaster. Quick as lightning the thought occurred to him 
that the impetus of the boat’s motion must have carried it 
beyond the scene of the disaster, and that he was more 
likely to reach it by returning to the point of his meditations 
on the upper deck. He reached it with a bound in an instant. 
He had reasoned rightly. Sure enough, he now stood nearest 
to the scene of the trouble. A small tug had, through mistake 
of signals or from some other cause, got in the path of the 
ferry boat, and there she now lay cut almost in twain by the 
force of the shock. George took all this in at a single glance, 
though the night was fast closing in. The search light from 
a steamer close by had been turned on when the cry of alarm 

[no] 


RETURNING HOME 


had been sounded. It was evident however, that mostly all 
hands had been saved; but there before him in the water was 
a sight which almost froze his blood in his veins. There was 
a desperate struggle going on — a struggle of life and death. 
Evidently — George interpreted the situation at a glance — 
some one had been in danger of drowning — and some one 
else had jumped in to rescue him. As usually happens in 
such cases, the drowning man handicapped all the efforts of 
the rescuer and both were in imminent danger of going down 
for the last time. The drowning man was clinging with all 
the tenacity of death to his rescuer with his arms clasping 
the arms of the other, thus rendering him utterly powerless. 
It was a frantic struggle. A few moments more and the 
rescuer could hold out no longer. Quick as lightning, George 
who, thanks to his university training, was an expert swimmer 
and diver, tore off his overcoat and frock, snatched a life 
preserver from a rack at one sweep, slid down the side of the 
boat, and dove into the water beneath the struggling pair, 
coming up directly in front of the rescuer, who seemed to be 
losing heart and fast losing strength. A word of encourage¬ 
ment and caution to be quiet was spoken to him. George slid 
the life preserver under his chest. The chance of rescue gave 
the rescuer new heart. He no longer strove with the drown¬ 
ing man, and George simply contented himself with keeping 
the double burden from sinking by sustaining the rescuer’s 
chest. The boat had now steadied herself and they were 
alongside of it. A rope was flung from its side. George 
reached out with his left hand and caught it instantly. He 
placed it in the rescuer’s hands, who, although powerless to 
swim or even make a stroke, could easily, notwithstanding the 
deathly clutch of the drowning man behind him, cling to a 
rope. George placed it securely in his hands, and as those 
on board drew up the double burden, George lifted them out 
of the water; and over the side of the boat were soon drawn 
the rescuer and the rescued in safety. It was a desperate 

[in] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


feat and required rare presence of mind to act sapiently in 
the matter so long had the struggle been going on in the water. 
But they were lifted safely over the side of the boat and 
restoratives quickly applied. A rope was thrown to George, 
who quickly clambered over the side of the boat nothing the 
worse for the adventure except for the wetting. Indeed the 
plunge in the water was the very best remedy for his nervous 
tension and throbbing brain. 

On the recovery of the drowning man, George to his great 
surprise, discovered him to be no other than his old friend — 
or rather worst enemy—the president of the New University, 
Dr. Hunter. He had been on board the tug, which was a 
private one, and which was making its way <out to a steamer 
in the middle of the bay. Dr. Hunter and his friends had 
arrived too late for the tender and wished to take a farewell 
leave of some friends on board who were just starting for 
Europe. George was dumbfounded to discover in the victim 
of the disaster this man who had once been his friend, but 
who recently pursued him with deadly hate. The incident — 
or rather accident — however had a determining influence on 
George’s resolution at this juncture, and his relation to the 
great work which was in process of operation. 


CHAPTER XI 


Dr. Hunter 

I T WAS Carlyle who said “The Corn Laws are too mad 
to have a chapter.” Not so Dr. Hunter. His very mad¬ 
ness it is that entitles him to a chapter. Not only is he 
entitled to a chapter, but to an entire volume to do him 
justice — and doubtless, this he will have some day. Here he 
is merely introduced — and this for the purpose 'of showing 
his influence on the fortunes of George Edwards. 

Dr. Hunter was not by any means without ability; other¬ 
wise he never could have attained the commanding position 
which he held as an educator. Nature had endowed him with 
a certain facility of speech of which he was very proud and 
which he carefully cultivated, so that he had at last achieved 
what was by no means an unpleasing delivery and address. 
The affectation of his address was, it is true, nauseating to 
people of taste and judgment; but in the silly seventies and 
stupid eighties, there were many, as everybody knows, who 
were ready to worship an affectation of any kind — even of 
wickedness. There was, it is true, very little that was solid 
in his discourse; but here again he was apt to catch the fancy 
of some; for while there might be little that was instructive, 
there was much of what might be called “Fourth of July ism” 
— the subject of it, and indeed of all the high-flown oratory 
of the man, being in the last analysis, Dr. Hunter himself, 
and whatever enterprise he happened to be prosecuting at the 
time of his address. 

Most people laughed at his vanity and self-applause; 
nevertheless he succeeded after a fashion. 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Joined to all this was a spirit of pugnacity and over¬ 
weening vanity, together with an intermeddling officiousness, 
which made him a scourge to those with whom he might 
happen to be laboring. When yet a young man he was 
employed as professor in a small university at the head of 
which was a man of solid ability and sound judgment. But 
Dr. Hunter was not satisfied with fulfilling merely the duties 
of his -own office. His intermeddling officiousness was forever 
interfering with the discipline, and he was forever so obtrud¬ 
ing himself into the workings of the university — which the 
outside world soon began to regard as his own personal feoff, 
— that for the sake of peace — for his pugnacious spirit was 
ever creating endless disturbance — the head of the institution 
determined that the university must rid itself of him in some 
way. He had, as has been said, some ability and address — 
and there was not at the time an over supply of talent in the 
field, so that when the University of Valley Forge was estab¬ 
lished it seemed nothing short of a particular dispensation 
of Providence especially arranged for the relief of the old 
institution, and his superior regarded it as his bounden duty 
to recommend Dr. Hunter as especially fitted for the office of 
President of the New University. It was a clear case of 
promoveatur ut amoveatur. Peace at any price — was what 
Dr. Strong was looking for, and he drew a sigh of relief that 
was distinctly audible to all present, when the appointment 
to the new office fell to Dr. Hunter. 

The new institution to which Dr. Hunter had been ap¬ 
pointed was forced to fight a hard battle in the struggle for 
existence — and its survival was certainly, at first at least, 
not a survival of the fittest. Schemes in which his own per¬ 
sonal vanity played the most prominent part, enterprises in 
which the doctor’s name should be constantly in the fore¬ 
ground, were entered upon without calculation of the means 
by which they were to be carried out. A pugnacious, tyran¬ 
nical, and overbearing temper — allied to a ridiculous vanity, 

[ IJ 4] 


DR. HUNTER 


an absolute ignorance of the value of money, a reckless expen¬ 
diture of it when in hand, a total inability at first to find 
resources for the support of the institution — all these would 
have swamped the new university in spite of its endowment 
fund but for the generosity of George’s father who, again and 
again had come to the aid of Dr. Hunter and his university 
in the sore hour of need. More than once had Mr. Edwards, 
by his liberal gifts of money — which indeed, might be said 
to be largesses — saved the institution from financial ruin. 
But Mr. Edwards did more. He enlisted his friends in its 
behalf. Not only that but day after day he replenished Dr. 
Hunter’s private purse from his own, thus enabling the 
Doctor to cut a prominent figure in the various educational 
forces of the land. The poverty of his struggling institution, 
whose finances he was so successfully mismanaging, was such 
that he was often short even of his carfare, to say nothing of 
his railroad and other expenses. It was only when Mr. 
Edwards invested a respectable sum in stocks which rose 
rapidly, and registered the purchase in Dr. Hunter’s name, 
turning over the income to him as his own, that Dr. Hunter 
began to feel self-supporting, so to speak. The investment 
proved to be valuable beyond even the expectations of Mr. 
Edwards, and thus through the bounty of his patron, Dr. 
Hunter became independently wealthy. 

Mr. Edwards was now dead, and his son, George, was the 
only one to whom Dr. Hunter could repay the debt of grati¬ 
tude to the deceased benefactor whose generous bounty had 
raised him from a condition of starving poverty to affluence. 
The manner in which he repaid the debt to the father in the 
person of the son is too long a story to be detailed at length 
here. It is, however, the best index to the Doctor’s character. 

There is no hatred equal in its malice to that of the man 
who has wronged you. Forgiveness of the man whom you 
have injured ? Never! At least so it was with Dr. Hunter. 
In a matter of some moment he had made the mistake of 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


deciding against George in an affair between the latter and 
one of his companions, when George was yet a student at the 
university, and not five months after the death of George’s 
father. George was clearly in the right and all the evidence 
in the matter was palpably on his side — so much so, indeed, 
that Dr. Hunter’s decision was followed by an indignation 
meeting by the whole university, with the full sympathy of 
the entire faculty, excepting the president. But George’s 
opponent possessed the art of flattery in an eminent degree 
(an art which George held in abhorrence) and he brought it to 
bear with telling effect on Dr. Hunter’s vanity. The Doctor 
was not so blind, however, that he did not discover his blunder 
almost immediately. He did discover it; but it was too late. 
The wrong was done and he never forgave George for it. He 
knew he could never justify his action to himself; but he 
undertook to justify it in the sight of others, and he never 
afterwards failed to put all George’s qualifications in a false 
and evil light. 

Nevertheless he never openly assumed an attitude of open 
hostility towards George. He was too astute for vulgar 
enmity. No one had ever heard him utter a syllable against 
George. He never used words of disparagement. But what¬ 
ever the uplifted eyebrows, whatever the raised hand in 
depreciating gesture, whatever the averted head, whatever 
the innuendo which led you to imagine almost anything — 
whatever these and a thousand other tricks of malice and 
cunning — worse by far than the blackest and vilest slanders 
— could accomplish, were effectually used whenever the name 
of George Edwards was mentioned in the presence of the 
doctor. The refinements of the doctor’s beautiful slanders 
were models of ingenuity. 

At first George was wholly unsuspicious. But it seemed 
that every fresh opportunity for his enmity merely whetted 
the doctor’s appetite for it; and George was at last forced to 
admit to his own heart the unwelcome intelligence that Dr. 

[” 6 ] 


DR. HUNTER 


Hunter was pursuing him with relentless and unsleeping 
hatred. Indeed to such an extent had the doctor carried his 
mania, that even the success of the History was not allowed 
to stand in the way of his enmity. Even its success must be 
sacrificed to this passion for persecution. There was no 
chance to assail George’s ability for the accomplishment of 
the task; for his transcendant talents were acknowledged on 
all sides. The Doctor had indeed long tried in vain to under¬ 
mine confidence in George as editor-in-chief of the great 
publication. He coveted for the university the honor that 
should accrue from the publication of the work, and the 
prestige which it would add. For this reason, almost in 
spite of himself, he was forced to admit to himself in secret 
that the work could not be in better hands. Now, however, 
that his enmity to George had grown to such proportions, he 
found that it was no easy task to belittle George’s abilities. 
Consequently, in order to gratify his hatred, he was forced 
to begin to belittle the great work itself. “It had never 
fully received his sanction,” he now began to declare. “It 
was but a fad of Professor Edwards” — a fad which he him¬ 
self — in his good nature mistakenly — even foolishly — 
indulged in the distinguished professor. Yes; there was no 
denying the great talents of Professor Edwards; but even 
the most learned professors are liable to have fads and 
foolish notions; and he, against his better judgment, had 
weakly yielded to Professor Edward’s “whim.” The fact 
was that he had been as enthusiastic over the work as his 
feelings towards George would allow; and he had hoped that 
when the work was published, the glorj^ of it would be easily 
appropriated by himself, as head of the University. 

That this would be the easy task he had pictured to him¬ 
self, he now began seriously to doubt. There was nothing 
more evident than that wherever the great work was spoken 
of the identification of George Edwards with it was com¬ 
plete. The complimentary press notices which appeared so 

L it 7] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


frequently, all spoke of the editor as the only one capable of 
bringing such a work to light; and Dr. Hunter’s name was 
seldom mentioned in the connection at all; or if it was, it was 
usually for the purpose of congratulating him on having so 
able a colleague as Professor Edwards, and on the lustre that 
must accrue to his institution from the publication there of 
a work by so distinguished a man. 

This grated harshly on the nerves of Dr. Hunter. That 
in his own university, there should be a transcendent glory, 
the credit of which would not be ascribed to him, was not 
within the range of his calculations. From the moment in 
which he realized that the name of George Edwards was so 
completely identified with the forthcoming work that it was 
evident his own share of the glory would be merely that of the 
sponsor — not that of the father — he began to regret that 
he had ever allowed the university to embark in the enterprise 
at all. However it was now too late to suppress it. There was 
only left to him to disparage and depreciate its value. This 
he did with a liberal hand. 

George was even surprised to find that some papers that 
had at one time been the most enthusiastic in its praise now 
began to speak slightingly of the work. “Its importance had 
been greatly exaggerated; ” “It was the work of a young and 
ardent enthusiast;” “Mature judgment could find nothing 
in the theme or its development to commend; ” “ Had not the 
press been altogether too hysterical in its notices of what 
would probably prove to be a very tame affair; ” “ The wisdom 
of Dr. Hunter in witholding his sanction from a work whose 
success was problematic was deserving of all praise; ” “ Dr. 
Hunter’s goodness of heart had overruled his usual eonverva- 
tism and sound judgment, and he had yielded against his best 
convictions, consent to the work, simply to humor the en¬ 
thusiasm of the young professor” — these, and many other 
like comments now began to appear in one or two organs with 
which Dr. Hunter was very closely allied, and George’s friends 


DR. HUNTER 


.declared that the comments were “inspired.’’ One friend of 
George’s in particular determined to investigate the matter. 
He impersonated the role of Sherlock Holmes for George’s 
benefit. So successfully did he play the sleuth that no doubt 
was left of the doctor’s connection with all the adverse 
comments. 

When George candidly confronted Dr. Hunter with his 
perfidy, there was flat denial on the Doctor’s side. He even 
went so far as to charge George with having insulted him 
by entertaining the notion of hostility. 

When the true state of affairs fully dawned upon George, 
he set to work with renewed energy. The Doctor’s opposition 
— all the more that it was covert — had the effect of redoub¬ 
ling his zeal. What he had begun in the interests of science, 
he now pursued because of the attacks that had been made 
upon his work. He was now thoroughly aroused and although 
all his enthusiasm inspired by science had completely evap¬ 
orated he was resolved to continue the work until at least he 
should discover that he was teaching falsehood. 

He surmised rightly that his act in saving the life of 
Dr. Hunter had cut off forever all hope of the doctor’s for¬ 
giveness. He fully realized now that the doctor was his 
enemy by the two strongest titles known to hatred *— first Dr. 
Hunter had wronged him, and next George had done Dr. 
Hunter the greatest possible favor; he had saved his life. 
The first was sufficient cause to make the doctor his enemy 
for life; the second made the breach irreparable. In sav¬ 
ing his life George had brought the Doctor under a new 
obligation, and this, to the Doctor was an unpardonable 
injury. For his timely rescue he never forgave George, but 
rather he pursued him with renewed hostility. There was 
here, therefore, a stronger incentive to pursue the work on 
the history. 

George returned to the university in no enviable frame 
of mind. All the enthusiasm so deep and ardent — with which 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


he had commenced the work, had died -out completely. Science, 
his fair mistress, for which he had turned his back upon all 
else that was dear to him, was certainly repaying him strange¬ 
ly. Fortune, on the other hand, he found quite as fickle as 
science. He found himself in an awkward predicament. He 
had begun the work out of a thirst for scientific knowledge 
and a zeal for the diffusion of scientific wisdom. Both he 
found had vanished completely, and for the best of all reasons; 
yet he felt constrained to continue the work. The farcical 
proceedings at Stonefelt, now that the excitement of the river 
episode was over, came back to him with renewed interest. 
On the other hand, however, there was not only the hostility of 
Dr. Hunter as an incentive, impelling him to continue the 
work, but there was another equally strong. He shuddered 
as he thought of his mother with her keen intellectual per¬ 
ceptions, learning of all this. He recalled the grave ques¬ 
tioning of Rose: “Are you sure you are right?” He shrank 
in imagination as he seemed to look into the keen penetrating 
eyes of Father Ramsay, whose glance seemed to read the very 
soul, and whose eye was no keener than his mind was logical. 
Indeed well was it for his work that he thought of these 
things for his disgust with science — speculative science, at 
least — was growing deeper and deeper hour by hour. As 
those thoughts about his friends came up before him, he felt 
the necessity of self-defence against their imaginary attacks; 
and thus he was thrown back upon the arguments by which 
he had first imposed upon himself. He resolved to stick to 
the sinking ship until her fate was hopeless. He soon forgot 
all about the Stone fossil, and his confidence in the old 
arguments seemed somehow to revive. 

No doubt intellectual pride was the predominant influence 
now at work in his mind, and in order to justify himself, he 
began to reconstruct the old defences of his position, with the 
result that he soon found himself forgetting all about the late 

[ 120 ] 


DR. HUNTER 


fiasco and making an act of implicit faith in Darwin and 
natural selection. 

“After all” he argued with himself: “What harm has 
been done? The men who passed judgment on the Stonefelt 
find were not Darwin or Huxley even though some of them 
are the leaders of thought at the present time.” 

So successfully did George argue with himself that he 
soon threw himself again heart and soul into the work of 
“The History,” if not with the same zest and enthusiasm, at 
least with as much zeal and perseverence as before. How 
much of this zeal was a refuge from haunting thoughts can 
only be surmised. Only this is certain: the more he found 
himself haunted by the torturing thoughts, the more deeply 
did he plunge into his work. 


[121] 


CHAPTER XII 


Among the Specimens 

T HROUGHOUT all his scientific doubt and enlighten¬ 
ment in all their varied stages, there was one supreme 
fact which seemed to have a preponderating influence 
in .riveting George’s convictions of the infallibility of 
science in general and of evolution in particular. To it he 
clung through all the adverse arguments of his friends and 
it was his sheet anchor in all seasons of doubt and mis¬ 
giving. It was his beacon light as he groped his way 
through the mazes of scientific gloom. When all his other 
arguments began to waver and grow unsteady he always 
looked back with confidence to this one. 

It was this. One day in the early years of his scientific 
illumination, in conversation with one of the professors of 
science in Studleigh University, he expressed some doubts 
on the conclusiveness of Darwin’s theory, on the difficulty 
of proving it, and on the imperfection of the geological 
record which gave no line of specimens — no evolutional 
series — unbroken. 

“We have many fossil specimens, ‘Les Ossemens fos- 
siles,’ as Cuvier styled them, but so incomplete that nothing 
can be made out of them, ” said he. 

“But there is one line in which there is completion — 
complete completion, if I may so put it,” said the professor. 

“Really?” inquired George. “It would certainly lend 
an air of probability to the theory if even one line of 
fossils was complete. But may we ever hope for this? The 
dog series and the pigeon series have proven dismal 
failures.” 


[ 122 ] 


AMONG THE SPECIMENS 


“Come and see,” was the professor’s reply. 

And he led the way to the museum of natural history in 
connection with the metropolitan art museum, going at 
once to the section which contained the alleged models of 
the evolution of the horse. 

George had read of this before. He knew the stress 
which the late Professor Huxley had laid upon it, how it had 
been accepted without question by science generally, and 
how much faith had been implicitly and absolutely reposed 
in it. He had no doubts about the genuineness or impor¬ 
tance of the collection; but he had hardly expected to find 
it so complete. 

“Here,” said the professor; “we have symbolized or 
rather copied the original fossil remains discovered by 
Professor Marsh.” 

“These then are not the originals,” said George. 

“No,” replied the other. “The originals are in Yale, 
where you can examine them when you happen to be there. 
These, however, are such faithful imitations that they serve 
the purpose as well as the originals.” 

And George gazed long, wondered, admired, and was 
convinced. 

From that day forward, whenever he found his scientific 
faith waxing cold or beginning to waver, or when he found 
other proofs of evolution halting and cataleptic, he turned 
in thought to this fountain of scientific faith and his doubts 
instantly vanished. A pilgrimage to the museum was like 
a tonic to his scientific constitution. His evolutional and 
Darwinian system seemed to be at once invigorated, and he 
walked again erect. 

On his return from the chase to Stonefelt to see the 
missing link, his Darwinian system, so to speak, was com¬ 
pletely disordered. Doubts on the security of his position 
assailed him as they had never done before, and when he 
had been tortured beyond endurance by the farcical role 

03] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


which his favorite theory played on the occasion, and the 
ridiculous figure cut by it, he at last bethought him of his 
old refuge in the hour of temptation. He walked down to 
the museum, sought his favorite section; but somehow the view 
of his favorite gods failed in their usual effect upon him. 
Where before there had been unquestioning faith, the 
spectre of scientific suspicion — even scepticism — seemed 
now to haunt him. Doubts of various kinds began to per¬ 
plex him. Misgivings to which he had hitherto been a total 
stranger thrust their ugly features before him. Was it that 
the Stonefelt fiasco had shaken his faith in all fossildom? 
What proof was there of the Marsh fossils, that was stronger 
than that at Stonefelt? For once, the magic of his gods, the 
worship of his scientific idols, lost its power over him. He 
remained uncharmed. There was a heavy feeling at his 
heart. He thought of the Stonefelt assemblage of savants. 
He thought of Father Ramsay. He thought of Father Shairp. 
He thought of his mother at home, and began now for the 
first time to feel that after all his course had something — 
perhaps much — to do with her illness which was of so 
oppressive a nature.. He thought of Rose — of their last 
conversation — and of the marked change in her appear¬ 
ance which had abstracted some of her beauty and neverthe¬ 
less, at the same time, made her still more beautiful in his 
eyes — a mystery, by the way, which he had never taken any 
pains to explain to himself. His spirits were heavy and he 
was about to walk dejectedly away, when he was accosted 
by an entire stranger who held by the hand a little boy 
with bright eyes and an animated expression on his face as 
he gazed at the wonders in the Section. 

George cast upon him a look of admiration for the boy 
was certainly a striking figure, and then he looked at the 
father. The child was apparently about five years of age. 

“These are, I presume the original Marsh specimens?”, 
inquired the father, accosting George, as sometimes men who 

04] 


AMONG THE SPECIMENS 


are entire strangers to each other will do when they are in 
presence of a wonder common to the human race at large. 

“I rather think not,” replied George. “The originals 
are in the Yale museum and the Smithsonian institute at 
Washington. The catalogue, I believe, says these are mere 
imitations.” 

They are certainly interesting. A splendid menagerie. 
I wonder some enterprising Yankee does not get a complete 
set and have the entire zoo rounded out and perfected. 
There would be so little difficulty.” 

But they were interrupted by the boy who came to his 
father in a state of excitement and said, his eyes beaming 
with joy, 

“Oh papa, there are such nice toy dogs here with noses 
like pigs and hair like horses.” 

“They are horses, my boy,” said George admiring 
frankly the child’s enthusiasm. 

“They are not horses, for they have no hoofs,” said the 
boy protesting. 

“They are not such horses as we have now; but they 
are horses as they were millions and millions and millions 
of years ago,” replied George with a slight caress under the 
boy’s chin. 

“They are too little to be horses, and they have claws 
like dogs instead of hoofs. Why the littlest horse I ever saw 
was Sam Mitchell’s little pony and the whole lot of these 
would not be as big as Shet (the pony’s name) was” per¬ 
sisted the boy. 

“But the horses were only so large in those days,” 
explained George condescendingly. 

“And were the men all boys in those days too?” 
asked the boy with evident interest in the subject which was 
taking on for him a new and interesting aspect. 

“I wish my papa had remained a boy. Then I would 
have some one to play with all the time.” 

05] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“But papa plays with you, does he not?” interposed the 
father. 

“Oh yes when you are home. But you are most of the 
time at the office. How funny to have all the men little boys 
with little horses to play with,” he continued evidently 
struck deeply with the Lilliputian idea of the human family 
and of the horse kingdom. 

“It is not certain that men were small like the horse,” 
said George. 

‘ ‘ Men were probably always as large as they are now. ’ ’ 

“But why should they not be small if the horses were 
small? And if the horses were small and grew big, why 
were not men small and grew big too?”, inquired the child 
curiously and with the intensity of childhood. 

George gave a slight start. All the enthusiasm for his 
favorite science had come back to him with the questioning 
of the boy. It was such a delight to instruct unsophisticated 
childhood, especially in the scientific problems, where every¬ 
thing was, so to say, mathematically correct and almost ad¬ 
mitted of mathematical demonstration, — or at least as 
George thought it did. His spirits were up again as his mind 
went back to the eons of time when the little eohippers 
sprawled over the eocene rocks and browsed on the eocene 
grass and herbs. His strong power of imagination came back 
to him, and he conjured up before his vision whole herds of 
these diminutive horselings roaming over the now mysterious 
eocene world — wdiatever it was — and he saw them in hot 
haste running over the plains, pursued by their larger and 
more numerous enemies. 

But now at the questioning of the child his faith seemed 
suddenly to have sustained a shock. “Why did not men 
grow like the horse in the process of evolution.” Why in¬ 
deed? Had he taken too much for granted in this matter 
that seemed so plain, so susceptible of mathematical demon¬ 
stration- Had he been too precipitate in giving such un- 

[ 126 ] 


AMONG THE SPECIMENS 


equivocal assent to what after all was not proven — as it 
appeared now to him for the first time? He felt as if he had 
been stung by an adder. He disengaged himself instantly 
from the child and bowed a polite good day to the child’s 
father. 

When he had buried himself in another apartment where 
he was the sole occupant, he gave way freely to his thoughts. 
He faced them fully though his heart sank within him. 
Upon what evidence, he asked himself, had he placed such 
implicit faith in this complete proof of the new cult ? 

Were they really fossils of a time so distant that the 
mind reeled at the mere thought of it? Were they genuine — 
precisely what they declared themselves to be in such flaring 
characters? Why, yes; surely they must be. Had not men 
with the highest reputation as scientists — the leaders of 
thought in this realm — had they not, unhesitatingly pro¬ 
nounced them to be what the labels and the guidebooks said 
they were? Why then question their genuinity? Did not 
even their very appearance corroborate the statement? Yes, 
yes; to be sure. But—then—had not scientists with world¬ 
wide repute—with international fame—men who were looked 
up to as the leaders of thought—men ready to make affidavits 
and proclamations without number or end, testified to the 
authenticity and genuinity of the Stonefelt giant from 
an examination of which he had just come ? And was it not 
true that but for the timely and providential interference 
of the superintendent of the prison, this gigantic fraud 
would have been blazoned to the world, gazetted to the ends 
of the earth as the sure and unquestionable fossil remains of 
an eocene man? What greater proof was there for the 
eohipper? In all probability if the truth were known — 
if there had been anyone to tell the story of these little 
eohippers — it would have made the credulity of the scien¬ 
tists as ridiculous in this case as it was in the other. 


[i 27 ] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


And then came the question of the boy. Surely, surely, 
ex ore infantium and lactentium , 1 etc. No master of the 
schools, no scholastic philosopher, no Plato or Socrates could 
have gone more directly to the very root of the question than 
this lisping child. Yes indeed. Why, why did they grow? 
Why did men not grow ? What was in the law of evolution ? 
What about the change of claws to hoofs? — as the boy had 
suggested? How had it been brought about? Why had it 
been brought about? Was it progression or retrogression? 
Progression, surely it had been called; how did it mean pro¬ 
gression? His mind was for the first time completely per¬ 
plexed on the very point which before was so clear to him. 
Surely, science had been hasty, had jumped at conclusions 
too rapidly; it had accepted theories unproven for proofs 
positive; it had taken unquestioningly facts that were only 
facts in seeming, and accounted for them in any haphazard 
sort of way, and proclaimed to the world its own slipshod 
reasoning as proven — demonstrated — truth, worthy to be 
placed alongside of any mathematical demonstration. The 
world indeed looked dark and dreary to George, and espe¬ 
cially that world of science which, so lately, had showed him 
the hilltops tinted with gold and sunlight, flushed with scien¬ 
tific glory—glowing, splendid, serene and beautiful even to 
the point of dazzling splendor. 

But suddenly there came to him like a flash, the thought 
of Professor Huxley’s prophecy on this subject. He had 
heard it repeated so frequently that he could never forget 
it. It had been boasted that Professor Huxley a year or two 
before the fossil horses had been discovered, had accurately 
described what the ancestors of the present horse in past 
epochs might be supposed to have been. And now when a 
year or so later, the fossils were discovered, they fulfilled the 
requirements of Professor Huxley’s prophecy to the very 

1 From the mouths of babes and sucklings, etc. 

[ I2 8] 



AMONG THE SPECIMENS 


letter. What indeed could be stronger than this — a 
prophecy of science and its exact fulfillment. George for 
the moment was himself again. But soon the doubts re¬ 
turned. 




[129] 


CHAPTER XIII 


Professor Huxley’s Hippodrome 

I N THIS fluctuating frame of mind George, on his return 
home, dropped in to call on his old friend and companion 
Dr. Jones, who called occasionally at the university and 
between whom and George one of those friendships based on 
mutual likes and dislikes had sprung up. The conversation 
drifted towards the subject of which George’s mind was so 
full. The beacon light of his hopes never seemed to be so 
trembling or fitful as just now. 

“The new discovery did not pan out after all,” said the 
doctor, using some of the most expressive slang of the day 
with little compunction. 

“To what discovery do you allude?”, asked George in 
his primmest terms. 

“To the fossil man of Stonefelt — the missing link — 
you know, about which so much of a fuss was made in the 
press. The professors really thought that they had actually 
found something,” and he laughed heartily at the idea. 

“They did find something but it proved to be a mare’s 
nest,” said George quietly. 

“Yes; yes; I believe had it not been for Professor 
Knowenthal, the scientific world would have had another 
Bathybius on its hands, and science would again be made the 
laughing stock of the world. 

“You mean science came dangerously near being made 
the laughing stock of the world by Professor Knowenthal, 
do you not?” 


[130] 


PROFESSOR HUXLEY’S HIPPODROME 


“How is that? Was it not he who discovered that the 
‘find’ was a mere modern man.” He was now thoroughly 
interested. 

George laughed in a sickly sort of way. 

“You are trying to be ironical, at Professor Knowen- 
thal’s expense are you not?” he inquired, now fully in 
earnest. “Could it be possible?”, he asked himself, “that 
this foolish version of the foolish affair had got abroad?” 
This was the height of absurdity. 

“Not at all,” replied the Doctor promptly. “I met 
Professor Knowenthal in New York the other day — only 
yesterday, I believe — and he told me how wild the young 
men were — the younger generation of scientists — over the 
supposed importance of the remains, until he came; and how 
he was obliged to dampen their ardor and quench their 
enthusiasm, by showing them that the supposed fossil could 
be nothing more or less than a petrified man—probably re¬ 
cently buried; and that this proved really to be the case. 
Some officials from a prison or something near by, had 
shown conclusively that the ‘find’ was really the body of a 
man who had been buried only about seventeen years ago, 
thus corroborating the views which he — Professor Knowen¬ 
thal— had held from the very outset.” 

“It can not be possible that the Professor has under¬ 
taken to give out such a version of the matter. Why he in¬ 
sisted upon browbeating us all into an acknowledgment that 
we had at last discovered the missing link. He yielded only 
when it was shown beyond question that the supposed 
fossil was a man recently buried.” 

It was now the doctor’s turn to laugh, and he did most 
dangerously; George thought. When it had subsided however, 
he said, “That is just what I would have supposed, but he 
was so strong in his protestations and regrets that I was 
for once thrown off my guard completely. The protestations 
and regrets were all against the credulity of the young 

D3i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


generation of scientists who are ready to take anything and 
everything on faith and without sufficient proof.” 

‘‘I was not aware that this was a characteristic of the 
Professor,” said George, now quite serious. 

‘ 1 It is a characteristic of all science and of all scientists, ’ * 
replied the doctor with energy. 

“They do not accept all things on flimsy grounds,” re¬ 
plied George, manifesting signs of alarm. 

“They don’t don’t they?”, replied the doctor with 
spirit. ‘ ‘ What about the hippodrome ? ’ ’ 

“The hippodrome!” echoed George now thoroughly 
alarmed. 

“Yes, Professor Huxley’s hippodrome; or more cor¬ 
rectly, the Huxley-Marsh hippodrome.” 

“I suppose you mean the demonstration of the evolution 
of the horse. That is unquestionable — a proof as strong 
and cogent in its conclusiveness as any mathematical demon¬ 
stration. That is beyond doubt.” He wished to draw the 
doctor out on the subject. 

The doctor laughed again, even more heartily than be¬ 
fore. 

George affected to he offended or hurt, though in reality 
he was in a state of mental torture. 

“You do not mean to say that you pin your scientific 
faith to such a flimsy bit of texture as the reasoning in¬ 
volved in the horse business.” 

“It is equivalent to a mathematical demonstration, is it 
not? So I have always regarded it. There is no link 
missing in the evolutional series and what is there to dis¬ 
prove it?” 

“My dear sir, you do not mean to say you are in earnest. 
This is certainly the worst case of ‘hoss trade’ in the annals 
of the equine race.” 

George was or at least pretended to be offended, and 

. [ I 3 2 ] 


PROFESSOR HUXLEY’S HIPPODROME 


the doctor hastened to explain, without, however, sparing 
George’s feelings in the least. 

“For a piece of bold buccaneering, perhaps, there is 
nothing equal to this imposition even in the history of 
science. It is the worst piece of horse jockeying on record.” 

The doctor looked him squarely in the eyes. It was 
the look of a man that is sure of his ground and wonders 
why others do not see things in the same light as himself. 
George remained silent, however, and the Doctor continued. 

“You are not so easily imposed upon, Dr. Edwards. 
You have not given the matter much thought evidently, 
since you reason so lamely.” 

“On the contrary I have given it much thought.” 

“I am surprised at your conclusions then. You were 
present at the conference?” 

“Yes.” 

“There was even a resolution proposed and drafted to 
proclaim to the world the news — the wonderful discovery 
at Stonefelt, was there not?” 

“But it never came,” protested George. 

“But who prevented it? Was it the scientists?” 

George hung his head. 

“You know it was not. You know the protest came 
from men who do not pretend to know anything of science. 
You know that the information was unwelcome to the 
scientists. You know they accepted it reluctantly. And 
you know that they would never have accepted it had they 
been able to disprove or get around the testimony that 
showed they were mistaken.” 

George nodded a reluctant assent, and his face was a 
study. 

“How then can it be said that we are disbelieving the 
Stonefelt fossil on the authority of the scientists? Are we 
not disbelieving it solely on the authority of those men who 
had nothing to do with the scientists, who had to override 

[133] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the preconceived opinions of the scientists — and who found 
the scientists in flat contradiction. And the scientists 
yielded only when they could not deny it without making 
themselves ridiculous.” 

George groaned heavily. 

“We are simply disbelieving it in spite of the authority 
of the scientists. And yet it is only on this same authority 
that we are asked to believe all about the hippodrome. Why 
may not the scientists be deceived quite as much in one case 
as in the other? At all events a prudent man would hesitate 
before pinning his faith to a proposition on their authority. 
That at least is evident.” 

“You put the case strongly, but not unreasonably,” 
said George and his faith in the hippodrome — the star 
witness of evolution — was shaken. “But,” he added, 
however; “False in one point, false on every point: is too 
sweeping a principle in this case.” 

“But that is not the only ground on which scepticism 
is justifiable in the hoss trade,” resumed the doctor. 

“I admit that is quite sufficient to warrant doubt in the 
authors of the theory. But it is true, however, that the 
matter — aside from the doubts as to the genuinity of the 
hippodrome — seems to be all right, does it not?” 

“Not at all. The reasons assigned by the theorists for 
the modification so called are still more open to question.” 

“What do you mean? I had always supposed that the 
reasons were the best part of the argument, that is, if 
arguments were needed.” 

“The eohippers have five toes, the orohippers four, and 
the horse has but one. This is a remarkable modification to 
say nothing of the intermediates,” said the doctor. 

“Yes but fully accounted for by a reasoning conclusive 
and convincing,” replied George. 

The doctor laughed heartily again. “Why should the 
claws change to hoofs? What connection can there be be- 

[ 1 34 ] 


PROFESSOR HUXLEY’S HIPPODROME 


tween the horse and these finds? The answer given by 
science is all fancy, and its ready acceptance by the world 
does not bespeak great intelligence or large critical faculty 
on the part of the world. In fact it simply shows that the 
world is not very particular about what it accepts as truth 
when it comes from a professor of science. This is not to the 
world’s credit.” 

“You are, of course, familiar with the explanation given 
for the change,” replied George. 

“Not with any explanation that explains why the 
claws should change while all the rest of the anatomy 
remains unmodified — except as to size,” was the reply. 

“Well it is all the same thing. The reason why the 
toes disappeared and only one toe—so called — remains,” 
and a smile came over his features, “is that one toe makes 
for greater swiftness.” 

“The five toes are supposed to have shrunk to four, the 
four to three, the three to two, and the two to one. What is 
the proof of all this?” 

“The fleetness of the horse,” replied George, half 
interrogatively, half affirmatively. 

“The ever present evolution fallacy idem per idem. 

“How do you know that one toe is a decided advantage 
over three?” And the Doctor turned around suddenly and 
looked George directly in the eye. 

George looked puzzled but did not reply. 

“Who knows that a three-toed horse would be handi¬ 
capped in a horse race with a single-toed specimen?” 

“That is the reason assigned by the authorities on the 
subject.” 

“And why should we be foolish enough to accept it on 
the mere word of the authorities ? Proof, evidence — that 
is what we want.” 

“But does not a single-toed horse have a great advan¬ 
tage in speed over any other kind?”, asked George. 

[*315] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“Does a man with, a wooden leg have an advantage 
over a man with five toes?”, laughingly asked the doctor. 

George laughed. 

“I hardly think that will serve as an argument,” he 
said. “This is trifling with a serious subject.” 

“I did not put it forward as an argument exactly; but 
it is no more absurd as an argument than the reasons for 
the advantage of a single toe over three toes. You will be 
telling us next that it is a like advantage to have shoes and 
that this is why men wear shoes. Yes, possibly, the next 
evolutional term of man’s progress is that he will be born 
with his shoes on. This would effectually do away with the 
disadvantage of being born with five toes and pulling off 
and on one’s stockings.” 

George laughed but did not reply. 

“I suppose you take it that man wears shoes because 
it gives him an advantage over the man in his bare feet; and 
that as the man cramps his toes and packs them away in his 
shoes, the horse cramped his and packed them away in a 
single toe. The reasoning in the one case is about as sound 
as in the other.” 

“But I can not accept the analogy at all,” said George 
with a marked degree of expostulation and some symptoms 
of being bored. 

“I did not expect you would accept it. Nor would I 
let you if you felt so inclined. But I wanted to show you 
the absurdity of the position of science on this question. It 
is assumed that the horse has an advantage in speed in his 
single toe — so called; and the explanation given by no 
less a personage than the late Professor Huxley, is that the 
single toe of the horse, as it is called, is a survival of the 
fittest, and that it is the fittest because it possesses advan¬ 
tages for running which three toes or two toes or five toes 
do not. Now what is the proof of this bold assertion?” 

“The proof is in the evolution of the horse.” 


PROFESSOR HUXLEY’S HIPPODROME 


“Exactly, a vicious circle; tlie most vicious circle in all 
science — and it has many of them. The proof that the 
three toes coalesced in one, is that the coalescence was 
necessary for speed, and the proof that this coalescense made 
for speed, is that the toes coalesced — idem per idem” 

“There is much in your objection, I concede. I have 
frequently thought exactly in that way myself. I have 
never been able to discover other reasons, I confess,” 
admitted George. 

“Certainly; there never was so big a humbug in the 
line of scientific explanation palmed off on an unsuspecting 
w T orld than the explanation of the hippodrome and the 
causes thereof. The necessity of a single toe, we are told, is 
due to the speed of the horse. But the ostrich is swifter than 
the horse. It can outrun any horse. Why would it not be 
of like advantage to the ostrich to have one toe like the 
horse instead of three? It might want to run, too, over the 
plains sometimes — in fact does run over them. It is pass¬ 
ing strange that, if the horse has modified its three toes into 
one toe for the sake of swiftness, the ostrich did not have 
the wit to do the same. Why did not the toes of the ostrich 
modify themselves into a single toe? Why was the horse 
specially favored, and not his pursuer? Was it a square 
deal that was handed to the ostrich?” 

There was something tantalizing in the Doctor’s man¬ 
ner. One thing was evident to George. He was not greatly 
overawed or alarmed by the proof from the eohippers. 
George was determined to find out whether his indifference 
to the cogent piece of evidence was real or merely assumed. 
He was determined to draw him out. 

“How shallow we are! and how easily we take anything 
for a proof! How narrow a line separates truth from false¬ 
hood. Surely, as you say, if a single toe is a good thing for 
the horse in this matter of swiftness, it is a little singular, 

[! 37 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


that not only the ostrich, but all animals that have to run 
quickly, are not evolved in this advantageous way.” 

“Shall I tell you why?”, asked the doctor, with a 
quizzical expression. 

“By all means if you will.” 

“Because science wanted to make out a case for the 
alleged evolution of the horse. It had those fossils on hand 
— or ordered them to hand — and wanted an explanation. 
It was forced to give one, and this was the best that offered 
itself. ’ ’ 

“But this was a foolish one.” 

“Truly so. Better give none at all than give a foolish 
one. I believe I could have invented a more plausible one 
myself. But I for one, have somewhat grave doubts as to 
the genuinity or meaning of these fossils.” 


[J38] 


CHAPTER XIV 


Sciences, History and Politics 

OU do not mean to intimate that they are not what 
i. they are said to be.” 

‘ ‘ I mean to say ’ ’ — and he spoke deliberately and 
with marked emphasis that the atmosphere in which the 
eohippers were discovered was not exactly a healthy one for 
unbiased scientific opinion — to say nothing of truth — or 
one in which unadulterated and undiluted truth reigned 
supreme. 

“This is rather a serious accusation against scientific 
men and scientific truth; and I confess here, at least, I can 
not follow you. ’ ’ 

“Nevertheless there was a pretty grave scandal in scien¬ 
tific ranks in those days; and the scientists did not wholly 
succeed in keeping it from the outside world either.” He 
paused reflectingly for a moment and then resumed. 

“Their scandals would be no concern of ours did they 
not affect the truth of questions in which we are all vitally 
interested. But it is of the utmost importance to know 
whether they have palmed off on the world impostures, 
or whether they have been as faithless to duty as they were 
accused <of being; and therefore whether they are entitled to 
our credence when they make scientific statements. It is to be 
regretted that there seems to have been a jugglery of science 
and fossils which is not reassuring to the honest and sincere 
seeker after scientific truth.” 

“You astonish me, Doctor.” 

“The past would be sacred if it did not cast its baleful 
shadow on the present — would be sacred even in its errors — 

[* 39 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


even if they were malicious; but the truth must not be per¬ 
mitted to suffer, even to hide the scandals of science.” 

And he reached towards a massive volume which he ex¬ 
tracted from one of the drawers of his library case and turning 
to the heading “Professor Marsh” in his portfolio (which was 
nothing more or less than a well arranged scrapbook of scien¬ 
tific comment) he handed the portfolio to George. And this 
in part is what George read: It was an editorial from an 
influential daily paper of a large city. 

“Before an appropriation is made for continuing the 
geological survey it would be well for Congress to inquire 
into the conduct of the business. Very serious charges have 
been openly made against the director of the survey, Major 
Powell, and Professor Marsh of Yale College, who is connec¬ 
ted with the work and is now president of the National 
Academy of Sciences.” 

“It is a shame” cried George, “the way the church tries 
to persecute the votaries of science and hound them every¬ 
where. This is doubtless the snarl of a church organ, and the 
‘ very serious charges ’ are doubtless the work of the clergy. It 
is a shame that science is permitted to be attacked in this way 
and interfered with in its glorious mission of enlightening 
mankind. ’ ’ 

“Well, this is at least one case,” the Doctor replied, 
“where the church, or religion, or Christianity is not guilty. 
The charges seem to be made not by the church or the adher¬ 
ents of any religion; they come from the ranks of the scientists 
themselves. It is wholly a family quarrel. Read and see.” 
And George read: 

“The charges are made by Professor Cope of the Uni¬ 
versity of Pennsylvania and are supported by Professor 
Williston of Yale, Professor W. B. Scott of Princeton, and 
Dr. Frazer of the Franklin Institute, Philadelphia.” 

“Whee-e-e-e-o-ow!” whistled George. “This is a pretty 
kettle of fish.” 


[140] 


SCIENCES, HISTORY AND POLITICS 


, \ ou see it is not the church or the clergy, this time at 
least,’’ said the doctor. “ However read the charges. You 
will see what a beautiful environment they make for the birth 
of the new scientific truth.” 

George resumed his reading: 

“The charges are that Major Powell has turned the 
survey into a politico-scientific monopoly (Heavens! What a 
combination! interjected George), run on machine methods 
(George almost gasped) ; that he has plagiarized and dupli¬ 
cated the work of state geologists and past surveys; that in 
order to obtain appropriations for the survey he has made it 
an asylum for Congressmen’s sons; that he has provided 
sinecures for journalists in order to disarm criticism (George 
groaned audibly) ; and that he has doled out money among 
college professors and other scientists to secure their good 
will towards himself and the survey.” 

George stood transfixed. He had been stunned com¬ 
pletely by what he had read. His one beacon “the horse 
show” as it had been often called had been the sheet anchor 
of all his scientific hopes for the future, for the truth of the 
cause which he had espoused, and for which he had flung 
away religion so contemptuously. 

“This is dreadful,” was all he could utter. “Why did 
I not hear of this before ? ’ ’ 

“You were somewhat reluctant to hear of it now, and 
seemed to resist my efforts at enlightenment with a somewhat 
bad grace,” replied the doctor, with evidently very little 
compunction for his blasting enlightenment. 

“However,” he added still impenitent for the grief he 
had caused, “you have read only about Major Powell. Pro¬ 
fessor Marsh it was who was the star performer. You have 
not read about him.” 

George resumed the portfolio and read: 

“As for Professor Marsh it is charged that he schemed 
with Major Powell to get elected President of the National 

[Hi] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Academy of Sciences, so as to use that institution for their 
mutual purposes, and that it has been used to boom the 
survey; that through connivance with Powell he has stored 
immense government collections at Yale, and so mixed them 
up with the college collections that they can not now be 
separated; that the various scientific works which he has 
prepared are not original with him, but either the work of his 
assistants or else bald plagiarisms; that he has been allowed 
$60,000 per year by Powell and a salary of $4,000; that he 
has retained the salaries of members of his field parties; and 
that he has used questionable methods in prosecuting his 
scientific work.” 

George heaved a long sigh at the close and took a long 
breath. Alas! alas! for his great work! How speedily it was 
crumbling in his hands! 

“What do you think -of your incontrovertible argument 
now?” inquired the doctor. 

George’s only answer was a deep groan. 

‘ ‘ It would seem that a scientist might be able to discover 
a great many fossils at the rate of $64,000 a year, to say noth¬ 
ing of his spoils from his henchmen,” pursued the doctor 
unrelentingly. 

Still George did not answer. His mind was too full. 

“A fair sized menagerie might be purchased. The only 
thing I regret is, that he did not give us the w 7 orth of our 
money — for it was the people’s money. Instead of beggarly 
little eohippers he should have given us mammoth sized speci¬ 
mens. He could easily do it at the price. I do not like such 
stinginess. The man that could cheat his patrons with diminu¬ 
tive little orohippers, would not hesitate to filch from his 
subordinates as has been charged, ’ ’ and the doctor laughed at 
his own humor. 

“Why do they permit the miserable impostures bo sur¬ 
vive?” inquired George with fiery indignation. 

“A survival of the fittest, of course. What else did you 

[142] 


SCIENCES, HISTORY AND POLITICS 


think it could be? However, it may be that they are all 
right. I have only warned you against too easy credulity.” 

“They are shameless impostures,” cried George vehe¬ 
mently. 

“Do not arrive at that conclusion too quickly. It would 
be a mistake to rush into the opposite error. It would not 
mend matters at all. To me the proper attitude in this matter 
is one of healthy intelligent scepticism that challenges at 
every point. This is the only remedy against deception. ’ ’ 

“You are perfectly right, and I only regret I did not 
adopt it long ago.” 

“Meanwhile, however, it is just as well for you to know 
the opinion of Marsh entertained by his colleagues, nay by 
his fellow-professors at Yale; and he turned to another part 
of the portfolio and returned it to George. It proved to be a 
letter from Professor Williston of Yale, also to Professor 
Cope. The letter had found its way into the press during the 
discussion. It read: 

“I wait with patience the light that will surely be shed 
over Professor Marsh and his work. Is it possible for a man 
whom all his colleagues call a liar to retain a general reputa¬ 
tion for veracity ? I do not worry about his ultimate position 
in science. He will find his level, possibly fall below it. 
There is one thing I have always felt was a burning disgrace 
— that such a man should be chosen to the highest position 
in science as the President of National Academy -of Sciences 

.Professor Marsh did once indirectly request me to 

destroy Kansas fossils rather than let them fall into your 
hands.” 

“But this may be a calumny,” said George. 

“I do not vouch for it. It is his colleagues that are 
speaking. I only wished to put you on your guard,” said the 
doctor. 

George felt as though he had been stung by ten thousand 
adders. His Gibraltar of science yielded without a single 

[M3] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


blow. Dewey at Manilla found neither so easy nor so complete 
a victory. He instantly capitulated before the words that 
told of the shame of science. ’ ’ 

4 ‘What a shame!” he muttered between his teeth, as if 
it were a personal insult. The honor of science was blasted, 
ruined. ‘ ‘ Graft! ” he cried bitterly. ‘ ‘ Graft and science ! 
What a combination! Ye gods!” 

And he thought bitterly of two or three sentences that 
haunted his memory. “He had been allowed $60,000 a year 
and $4,000 salary.” Who could not, who would not be 
virtuous and a scientist on $64,000 ? 

And then that other sentence that bit like iron into his 
soul, bringing death to all his hopes, “He has used question¬ 
able methods in prosecuting his scientific work.” Its very 
vagueness made it all the more dreadful. It tainted all his 
work and made everything suspected. And then there would 
come from his colleague’s letter those haunting words, “A 
man whom all his colleagues call a liar.” Here then was the 
“Fanaticism of veracity” which Huxley used to boast of as 
the requisite of the scientific spirit — nay as the ruling spirit 
of science or as the same authority put it, “Veracity was the 
very code of morality.” And this was the morality of science ! 
And then horror of horrors! And this was the man who 
verified Professor Huxley’s descriptive prophecy of The 
Ancestors of the Horse! This man was the friend of Huxley. 
It seemed to him as though some wicked demon had steeped a 
brush in all the slime and filth of immorality and unveracity 
and swept it across the fair face of the science of whose beauty 
and truth he had boasted. 

“It seems to me that after all they have not much to 
boast of in comparison with the apostles of Christianity, 
have they ? -— those apostles of modern science, ’ ’ the Doctor 
resumed. “You used to say bitterly that the apostles of 
Christianity were too credulous. I doubt whether they were 
more credulous than the apostles of science in our day. And 

[ J 44] 


SCIENCES, HISTORY AND POLITICS 


one thing is sure, they were not addicted to graft. They gave 
their lives for their belief. And no one in his senses ever 
accused them of what is laid at the door of the father of your 
hippodrome.” 

“I have been an ass,” cried George bitterly. “I have got 
my deserts. You may tease me to your heart’s content. I 
deserve all the chastisement and all the contempt which you 
can visit on me.” 

“That reminds me,” said the doctor, placing the last 
straw on the camel’s breaking vertebrae, “that the affair 
got into poetry and some good natured, humorous doggerel 
got into print on the subject by way of raillery of the 
scientists in their distinguished and dignified roles.” 

And the Doctor turning to another part of the portfolio, 
(evidently he had been painstaking in his selection), and 
returned it to George pointing to this stanza, purporting to 
be from Professor Cope to Professor Marsh: 

Your ignorance of Saurians is something very strange; 

The mammals of the Laramie are far beyond your range; 

You fail to see that certain birds enjoy the use of teeth, 

That pterodactyls perched on trees, nor feared the ground beneath 
You stole your evoluted horse from Kowalesky’s brain, 

And previous peoples’ fossils smashed, from Mexico to Maine. 

To permian reptiles you are blind in short, I do insist 
You are — hinc illae lachrymae — you are a plagiarist.” 

There were other verses of the same kind, all showing 
that the immaculacy of science was not what it was boasted 
to be; and that the men who supposed that the ways of 
science were all innocence and all its paths peace and har¬ 
mony, were but slightly acquainted with the real nature of 
things and had not gone very far beneath the surface. The 
concluding stanzas even constituted a moral plainly printed, 
showing the need of it in this very guileless region of knowl¬ 
edge. It read: 


[ J 45] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“Moral” 

“So science walks, with gait serene, her crown an olive sprig 
Intent alone on holy truth and otium cum dig.” 

“You are aware that the discovery was even a matter of 
prophecy and that Professor Huxley described accurately 
what the ancestors of the horse would look like — if they were 
ever discovered — and this about a year or so before the 
discovery. 

“I believe I heard something of this.” 

“Does this suggest to you anything remarkable except 
Professor Huxley’s wonderful gift of prophecy,” he asked, 
shutting his left eye very hard and looking very hard with the 
right. 

“I have regarded it as a very remarkable prophecy, 
even with Konalesky’s discoveries to guide him,” said George. 
“Don’t you?” 

“I find just one fault with it, it was too accurately veri¬ 
fied. Had the fossils been less true to the description, I might 
have greater faith in them.” And he winked oracularly as 
before. 



CHAPTER XV 


Taking New Soundings 

I 

I T WOULD be impossible to describe the impression made 
upon George by this appalling discovery. It was singu¬ 
lar, he thought that he had not become acquainted with 
these ugly facts before; for these were real facts of history; 
and alas! too, of science. There was no denying them. 
They were matter of public record; but when collated in the 
way the doctor had done, — and there was no questioning its 
propriety — they were appalling. Perhaps, even he him¬ 
self, had he been familiar with them, might never have 
placed in this crushing synthesis the entire body; but now 
that he saw them placed in such juxtaposition the effect was 
overwhelming. 

His heart was under the sway of various conflicting 
emotions for some time after the discovery. Grief, dis¬ 
appointment, a crash of all his scientific ideals and all his 
scientific hopes came first. While in the presence of Dr. 
Jones he maintained complete control over his emotions but 
when he was alone they rushed upon him with all the 
impetuosity of a mountain torrent. He had loved his work 
for the work’s sake. He had so loved it, because he believed 
he was engaged in the propagation of truth and truth in its 
most unquestionable form, scientific truth. And now he saw 
the lofty edifice crumble in an instant. His roseate views of 
life and of science in particular were completely clouded. It 
seemed to him as if the sun had gone out of the scientific 
world, even out of the world of all things. All had gone 
down in a cloud of blackest darkness. 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


And then his mind rose in indignation against what 
he called the deceivers in science, the schemers, the plotters, 
the quacks and adventurers with which he saw the entire 
domain thronged. As usually happens in such cases, he 
rushed to the other extreme. He loved truth for its own 
sake. His intellect demanded it. He could not rest satisfied 
with anything like a counterfeit of it. And here, where, like 
Othello, he had garnered all his hopes, and squandered the 
best desires of his heart, lavishly — luxuriously, he had 
found imposture. How had the gold become dimmed and the 
beauty of the lily faded! And his heart went out in execra¬ 
tion of the methods — the falsity, the imposture, the fraud, 
cheating, trickery, knavery and cunning. Indignation — 
scorn — filled his heart. He wished to rush out and proclaim 
to the world the falsehood of the gigantic imposture of this 
proud pretender. The very crimes which it denounced in 
others it practiced to the full itself. His heart was too full. 
Never was there such an awakening. And like all un¬ 
deception, it carried him too far. The effect of his skaken 
confidence was sweeping. In his indignation he arraigned 
all science without exception. 

And then came sweeping over him a deep sense of 
shame for the manner in which he had flung aside so con¬ 
temptuously his religious belief. Swindled! Was the ex¬ 
pression on his lips. Had it been the syren of pleasure, he 
would not have felt half so indignant; but he had given up 
the crystal purity of truth that was sacred for that which 
proclaimed itself sacred. A scientific gold brick had been 
offered him and like any other rustic he had been deceived 
— for it he had given up the pearl of great price. 

And then with mantling blushes of indignation — the 
fiercest, against himself — his mind reverted inevitably to 
the mother whose heart was breaking for his infidelity, his 
faithlessness, his shallowness, his shame. His heart for the 
moment became the fierce playground of passion. Ugly 

[148] 


TAKING NEW SOUNDINGS 


thoughts arose for the first time in his life. Wild, Ishmaeli- 
tish feelings seemed to get the control. Curses sprang to his 
lips, imprecations were kindling in his throat. A whirl¬ 
wind of blackest pessimism swept over his soul. Bitterness, 
disappointment — almost rage — seized upon him; and for 
the moment he seemed to lose control of the emotions, and 
his reason for the nonce was eclipsed in the swirling tide of 
passion, like the sun hidden by the cyclone. 

And what wonder! All for which he had lived, all for 
which he had given up all that was worth having in life, all 
that he had foolishly sacrificed, squandered — the fortune 
from his work, — the prestige from scientific knowledge — 
the monument to posterity; all — all — were gone. 

It was with a hevay heart and a clouded sky over¬ 
casting his pleasant outlook on life that George returned to 
his apartments and flung himself on a couch in a condition 
closely bordering on stupor. 

In something like a half-hour he rallied from his dazed 
condition, and reached out for a little book which lay at 
his elbow. It w r as a gift from Rose a year before, and had 
the words “Tolle Lege” written in her hand upon the fly¬ 
leaf. He opened the book at random and lighted on Chapter 
V., Book VI of that extraordinary work which contains so 
much biography, so much philosophy, and so much dogmatic 
teaching, as well as so much spirituality — St. Augustine’s 
Confessions — and read the opening words of the chapter: 

“And in this thing also I could not but prefer the 
Catholic doctrine, that I found that it was with more 
modesty and without deceit, men were commanded to be¬ 
lieve what was not yet demonstrated. 

whereas among the Manicheans believing was ridiculed, and 
evidence was promised; and yet after all many things most 
fabulous and absurd, which could never be demonstrated, 
were imposed to be believed.’ ’ 

He sprang up as if stung by an adder. What was this? 

[ J 49] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


The old Manichean spirit embodied in modern scientific 
progress? Surely modern times could not boast of even the 
quality of novelty. Was it not the same old story precisely? 
— although he had supposed that it was entirely new. Was 
this not a characteristic of error — always — everywhere? 
And yet the modern movement seemed to think it was 
altogether new—'Unprecedented. 

And then was it not the same with the church to-day? 
Was it not with ‘‘modesty and without deceit” that she 
“commanded to believe what was not yet demonstrated?” 
And did not the modern Manichean “ridicule” in season 
and out of season everything that savored of believing with¬ 
out demonstration, even as the ancient Manichean had done ? 
Indeed was not this the supreme hobby of the modern scien¬ 
tific Manichean? “Believing was ridiculed, and evidence 
was promised,” he read again. Was not this precisely the 
situation in your intellectual world today? And how 
magniloquently the age “promised evidence,” too, like the 
Manichean! Yes and how like her, too, in spite of all her 
pretensions and assurances — in spite of her grandiloquently 
promised evidence,” wherever she “asked assent!” How 
“many things most fabulous and absurd, which could never 
be demonstrated, were imposed to be believed” by this 
bullying science? He read the passage over again. Surely, 
surely, he thought, there is nothing new under the sun, even 
the vagaries, and pretensions, and absurdities of modern 
error. 

George now seemed to feel the scales falling from his 
eyes; nevertheless his soul still hankered after the knowledge 
which demonstration gives. The intellectual fleshpots of 
Egypt still had their attractions for him and he yearned for 
this satisfying kind of knowledge; but lo; he found what he 
had supposed to be intellectual treasure-houses, empty. He 
had looked for demonstration in religion — petulantly cried 
and clamored for it; quarrelled with its mysteries, which 

[ r 5°] 


TAKING NEW SOUNDINGS 


flatly refused it, revolted; and now — he found it not even 
in science. His mind seemed as if hanging over a precipice 
— ready to drop from a dizzy height — whither he knew not. 
The intellectual world seemed to him to be a blank or what 
there was of it seemed to him to be tottering and unsteady. 
He opened the book again; and this is what he read: 

“ Hence my interior was gripped with so much greater 
solicitude, what I should now hold for certain, by how much 
the more I was ashamed to have been so long deluded and 
deceived with the promise of certitude, and to have all the 
while with childish error and heat, prated upon so many 
uncertainties, as if they had been things almost certain. For 
that they were absolutely false I did not fully know till 
afterwards; but I was now sure that they were uncertain, 
and that I had formerly taken them for certain. ’ ’ 

He was startled. Had the writer photographed his 
(George’s) own position? Surely, he thought, this is but a 
repetition, after all of the old spirit of heresy, of unrest and 
unbelief. Modern error can not claim even the wretched 
merit of being new. One of the strongest grounds on which 
the modern movement appeals to a thoughtless world is, that 
the human mind, for the first time in all its history, has 
risen to the full height of demonstrated truth — that it is now 
for the first time equipped by knowledge, by attainment, by its 
modern grasp and methods — for the task of dealing ade¬ 
quately with profound or abstruse questions. And lo! here 
was the Manichean — thirteen hundred years ago —making 
the selfsame boast, debating the same questions in the self¬ 
same manner, using the same sophistry against Christianity 
and the same foolish words about his own enlightenment. The 
present had not even the merit of originality. The human 
mind had not advanced one single step, not only in philosophy 
and wisdom, but even in its methods of presenting error. 
How he himself had, with childish error and heat, “prated 
upon so many uncertainties, as if they had been things almost 

[i5i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


certain!” Yes; surely error is the same in every age, false¬ 
hood can not vary or change its features. The hippodrome, 
as Dr. Jones had felicitously styled it, how certain he had 
regarded it! and now behold in what discredit and un¬ 
certainty it was shrouded. He could have taken his oath on 
the evidence in favor of it. And now. . .? And so with 
Darwinism. How sure he felt now that it was all ‘ ‘ uncertain, ’ ’ 
and that he had * ‘ formerly taken it for certain. ’ ’ 


IJ52] 


CHAPTER XVI 


Getting Acquainted 

M EANWHILE matters at Toneton proceeded without 
change. Mrs. Edwards seemed to grow neither better 
nor worse. The same placid manner, however, which 
succeeded to the strong emotion of George’s visit still charac¬ 
terized her. After the strong emotional scenes through which 
she had passed, first in her interview with Father Johnson 
and then in the interview with George, all semblance of 
emotion seemed to have subsided — indeed was conspicuous 
by its total absence. She was the gentle, patient sufferer 
again. She rarely left her chair, even for sleep. If she spoke 
of George — which she did but seldom — it was without 
reproach or regret, and not so much with a calm, patient 
resignation as with a hope that by no means fell short of 
perfect confidence. The disease too seemed to be stationary, 
and the physicians began to think it was not impossible that 
she might eventually rally. 

Dr. Pembroke — Anthony Pembroke, George’s university 
companion, who had taken up the practice of medicine at 
Toneton — was now installed as regular physician; and as 
he was devotedly attached to George and sent him a private 
bulletin daily — supplemented by a semi-weekly letter of de¬ 
tails — George felt that his household matters could not be in 
better hands, especially as the physician’s and nurse’s care 
were very steadily supplemented by that of Rose Ramsay and 
George’s cousin, Edith Kingsley. Plis mind was therefore 
easy on that point, although his heart was sore on account of 
his enforced absence from her side. He was advised, however, 

[ J 53] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


by the physicians — and indeed his own heart told him plainly 
— that his absence from the side of his mother’s sick conch 
was, under existing circumstances, far more beneficial to her 
than his presence there could possibly be. It sent a pang 
through him to think so; but his disenchantment, rude though 
it was, was not yet complete, indeed had hardly well begun. 
The realm of science and intellectuality — as he styled it — 
still possessed a strong fascination for him. Like Augustine 
held fast in the chains of sensual dalliance, George was still 
held fast in what he still regarded as “intellectual” thraldom. 
And even when his mind was perturbed by doubt of the 
soundness of his position, he felt that in his unsettled state 
of mind, he could not with prudence or safety attempt any 
change in his mental attitude. 

Rose was the same gentle, self-sacrificing nurse, whose 
slightest wish was to each of her companions the equivalent of 
a command. The greatness of her sacrifice seemed to have 
given her greatness of soul; or, perhaps it would be more 
correct to say that the greatness of her sacrifice was due to 
her greatness of soul — without which, she certainly could 
never have made it. Whether she ever had internal struggles 
with herself, whether regret ever had come to her for what 
many would call a foolish resolution, no one ever could tell. 
If regret there was it never betrayed itself in her manner or 
exterior. She went about all her daily tasks with the same 
sweet, gentle care and forethought as before, and the same 
purifying touch which had seemed to etherealize her beauty 
seemed to renew itself daily — the spiritual charm was ever 
there. 

But if the corpse of a pure, unselfish love was an atten¬ 
dant at Mrs. Edwards’ sick chair, there was also the birth of 
a new and ardent affection in waiting there also. Dr. An¬ 
thony Pembroke, while awed by the presence of Rose, felt 
himself fascinated by the presence of her companion, Edith 
Kingsley; and had there been any disposition on the part 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


of the physician to neglect his charge, there was an attraction 
in the attendant which would have kept him constantly at his 
patient’s side. It was a quiet every day attraction; and in 
spite of all that poets and novelists have written about the 
path of true love, this one certainly did “run smooth.” 
Possibly Cupid did not have the courage, alongside the 
tragedy in Rose’s heart, to dare perpetrate another. 

Nor was the intellectual side of life neglected by the 
little group of friends at Toneton. Father Ramsay’s natural 
tastes had long since led him to study the serious questions 
of the day, and to master what some people called their 
intellectual difficulties with a grasp and thoroughness which 
made him at least a quarter of a century in advance of his 
day. His Catholic club, consisting of the Catholic students 
at the university, afforded him much intellectual enjoyment, it 
is true, but as he had distanced his contemporaries in his 
grasp of the true meaning and solution of the great questions 
which men were asking their own hearts, he longed for a 
companionship in his studies and researches — a kindred mind 
with which he could exchange thought on these deep problems. 

Accordingly when one year previous to the date at which 
this narrative commences, Providence — in the person of his 
bishop — had sent to him as an assistant, a powerful six- 
footer, deep-chested and broad-shouldered, with an arm that 
was iron in its muscle, and a keen, flashing gray eye, Father 
Ramsay thought: Had I wished for an athlete — a master at 
football, at baseball, or at the art of fencing — I would be 
apt to find my wish realized in this magnificent Hercules. 
The last thing he dreamt of in this giant who stood before 
him, was the congenial intellectual companion for whom he 
had long been longing. What interest, he thought, could the 
higher criticism, or the knight-errantry of latter-day specu¬ 
lative science, have for this splendid Titan with his powerful 
chest and iron muscle ? 

Never, however, was first impression more mistaken than 

[155] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


was Father Ramsay’s on this occasion; or perhaps, it would 
be more correct to say Father Ramsay in his opinion was both 
right and wrong. For while Father Shairp proved to be the 
athletic giant which Father Ramsay had pictured in his 
own mind, he had not neglected the intellectual side; — the 
real giant in him was intellectual rather than muscular. When, 
at supper, each anxious to know where the other — with 
whom he was to live in such close relationship — stood on 
mooted questions, Father Ramsay tentatively, through curios¬ 
ity, broached the subject of modern infidelity and the dangers 
which threatened religion from that quarter, the broad- 
shouldered, deep-chested, muscular representative of the 
church suffering — which should be militant — entered so 
earnestly into the subject, and such a flood of scathing elo¬ 
quence fell from his lips, that Father Ramsay opened wide 
his eyes in admiration and wonderment, and he began to 
think that perhaps, his hope of a sympathetic mind in his 
researches into modern errors, was not quite so forlorn after 
all. 

When, after supper, Father Ramsay invited his new 
assistant to smoke a cigar in his study, and the young priest 
looked over Father Ramsay’s library, the surprise was mutual¬ 
ized. Father Shairp opened his eyes as he read the titles of 
volume after volume of the leading works by the leaders of 
modern infidelity. On taking down an occasional volume 
which especially appealed to him, he found to his delight 
unimpeachable evidence that the library was for something 
else besides show or ornament; for as he took down volume 
after volume and glanced rapidly through it, he found that 
not only were there many passages underlined in various scor¬ 
ings, but there were also marginal marks and marginal notes 
and comments, as well as other proofs of a careful and critical 
reading. To his great surprise he discovered that Father 
Ramsay’s system of marking and notemaking corresponded 
exactly with his own ? and even the brief marginal criticisms 

[■56] 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

at which he glanced in passing, showed that Father Ramsay 
had, like himself, gone directly to the bottom of the fallacy 
in every instance, instead of contenting himself with the 
shallow, superficial criticisms which were so much in vogue. 
And here, strangely enough, was the first bond that cemented 
together in everlasting friendship the gentle, refined and 
intellectual Father Ramsay and the young athletic giant, who 
had come to him as assistant. 

“I see you read Darwin, Huxley, and all the modern 
infidel school,” said the young assistant.” 

“I take them up occasionally, but have been unable 
to devote as much time to them as I would like,” and Father 
Ramsay straightened himself up in his chair and shifted his 
left knee over his right. 

“I perceive they occupy a corner in your library as 
unique as the nook they occupy in the world of thought. ’ ’ 

“Yes; very true; they do occupy a peculiar section in 
the world of modern opinions. They certainly are not en¬ 
titled to companionship with the solid works of philosophy 
or history, or even any of the cognate sciences. They are 
entitled to a special place by themselves, but one would hardly 
call it a position of honor.” 

He drew a short breath. Presently he added: “Do you 
know, I think the best work to be done by the clergy in our 
age lies along that line of thought.” 

‘ ‘ These are precisely my views, ’ ’ said the assistant. ‘ ‘ But 
I find that the priests are so busy — so completely occupied 
— so head-over-heels in the material work of religion that 
there is little time left for the moral work, less for the 
spiritual, and none at all for the intellectual work.” 

“We are in the brick and mortar age of the church in 
this country just at present. By and by we shall have the 
debt-paying age — in many places we have it now . 9 9 

11 Why I have never seen anything like how young priests 
become absorbed in brick and mortar. I have seen the 

[157] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


brightest intellects we have had in San Anselmo become 
veritable slaves of these things and perfect drudges col¬ 
lecting church funds. Some of them are even perfect com¬ 
puting machines in the matter of expenditure.” 

‘ ‘ Certainly that accounts for the marvelous growth of the 
church in this country. The devotion of the priests to the 
labor *of upbuilding religion has accomplished wonders. ’ ’ 

“But there is other work for them now,” said Father 
Shairp, sententiously. ‘ ‘ What is the use of building churches 
if we have no one to fill them? And if the present infidel 
propaganda of what is called the modern school of thought is 
permitted to go unchecked or pass unchallenged it is certain 
to sweep over the Catholic Church too with disastrous results.” 

“The storm, for us, is still at a great distance,” said 
Father Ramsay, thoughtfully. 

“Not so far off as it seems. A thousand agencies are at 
work hastening the time when the rising flood will reach our 
people, safeguarded even though their position is. At present 
the great breakwater of Protestantism which more or less 
broke the force of each threatening wave as it rose against 
Christianity, is being swept away, and we are now almost 
fully exposed to the ravages of the tide. ’ ’ 

It has hardly touched the masses of the people as yet , 9 ’ — 
and Father Ramsay beamed happily in the thought that 
there was some one besides himself who recognized the danger, 
and that one was to be his assistant. 

“I wish I could think so,” Father Shairp rejoined medi¬ 
tatively. “It has already reached them, I fear, through a 
different channel. They have no intellectual difficulties it is 
true. But through the roadstead of Socialism and Progress it 
is fast reaching them. Intellectuality and progress with the 
classes; Socialism and Progress with the masses. These are 
the present day Shibboleths. ’ * 

Father Ramsay lifted his eyebrows in astonishment. 

[i58] 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

This young man had diagnosed the disease even better than 
he himself had. 

‘ ‘ The pity of it all is, ’ ’ he said with feeling, ‘ ‘ that neither 
will discover the hollowness of it all until it is too late.” 

“It certainly behooves us clergymen to look well to our 
defences, ’’ he added after a pause. ‘ ‘ The enemy is skilful and 
cunning although their engines <of war are no more formidable 
than the old Spanish war vessels. ’ ’ 

“So formidable, however, that in some minds they have 
succeeded in creating a panic. Why some are already advo¬ 
cating a compromise . 9 9 

And the young man laughed heartily. 

“Poltroons there are, *of course, in every body; but in 
this case the enemy has made a great deal of noise, and to 
some men noise seems to be the equivalent of power. The 
Christian Jericho — if we are to listen to a few — is ready 
t-o surrender to the mere clamor of the scientific marchers.” 

‘ 4 Of course it is the old adage: empty vessels make most 
sound, all over again. But at all events I am more than 
pleased to find that we both agree in our opinions on the 
importance of the subject and that we take the same view 
of the whole modern movement. It has been the wish of my 
life to do something, even in a small way, to stem the tide of 
folly.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


The New Assistant 

N OR did the bond of sympathy slacken on further ac¬ 
quaintance. Nor did Father Shairp’s powers diminish 
on closer familiarity. The ease with which he went to 
the bottom of abstruse problems was marvellous. The listener 
was charmed by the precision of his views and the lucidity 
with which he presented them. He threw a light on subjects 
deemed impenetrable to the ordinary intellect. His mind was 
as steady in its light as a planet — and as brilliant — cold in 
its logic as polished steel, in its reasoning power clear as purest 
crystal. To vary the metaphor, it was often overwhelming 
in its profundity — reaching to depths which the ordinary 
plummet of deep sea soundings could never fathom. His 
opponents, when he dropped into controversy, usually mis¬ 
calculated his strength, often beginning with a low estimate 
of his powers. Often they counted confidently on an easy 
victory, and affected tolerance and forbearance with one whom 
it was but a trifle to overthrow. He seemed to enjoy allowing 
them to thus mislead themselves; but as soon as the smile of 
superiority or triumph appeared, in that moment he unleashed 
his powers. Reined in and held in check up to that moment, 
the wonderful gifts of his extraordinary mind were now set 
free, and the moment of victory was soon changed to igno¬ 
minious defeat; for he never failed to be on the right side of 
the question, and to present it forcibly and convincingly. 
And woe betide the man who came to meet him with a lame 
premise or a halting conclusion! The moment a fallacious 
argument or sophistical statement escaped the lips of his 

[i6°] 


THE NEW ASSISTANT 


opponent it was pierced with an arrow from his cynic quiver. 
“Socratic abortions” was his favorite title for the modern 
philosophers. “Newtonlets” was his favorite term for Dar¬ 
win and his school. 

“You have not much respect then for the modern in¬ 
tellectuality?” suggested Father Ramsay one day. 

“Modern intellectuality is like modern science. All the 
scientific guesses of the modern group would not make a 
single fact, and all the modern intellects would not, if rolled 
into one, make a fourth-rate poet, philosopher, orator or 
scientist of ancient times. ’ ’ 

“What is your opinion of Darwin, Huxley, Spencer and 
Co.?” 

The sum total of all their intellects concentrated in one 
single skull and intensified a million times might perhaps be 
to the intellect of, say, St. Thomas or St. Augustine as the 
tallow dip is to the glorious ball of luminosity that makes 
that arc light so dazzling.” 

He had graduated for himself the intellects which pleased 
him, leaving out the poetic and oratorical and literary world. 
St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, Bacon and Cardinal 
Newman reigned supreme in the realm of pure intellectuality. 
Aquinas and Bacon he regarded as colossal. “Bacon dealt,” 
he said, “with the philosophy of life; the others with the 
philosophy of truth.” Bacon he regarded less as a logical 
mind than a mind which had crystallized human experience 
and human wisdom into apposite phrases. 

Speaking of the difficulty of attaining certitude he was 
accustomed to say: 

“What is the use of everything else if we have not the 
power of reasoning rightly?” “No matter how sure our 
premises we may land in falsehood unless we have the true 
logical instinct.” 

“And how infinitely worse if we are unable to gauge the 
truth of our premises.” 

[ 161 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“And what when men are utterly reckless as to the truth 
or falsehood of them ? ’* 

“And what, when they wilfully blind themselves, and 
will not admit that their haphazard premises may be wrong ? ’ ’ 

‘ 1 This is juggling with truth. ’ ’ 

“It deserves, as Plato or Socrates would say, the anger 
of the gods; and the punishment of such recklessness, very 
often is, that the power of distinguishing or discerning truth, 
when that truth is plainly visible to others, is taken away, 
and thus some men become truth-blind just as other men 
become color-blind? 

“Science and scientific facts were to be sure good things 
— when one was sure of them — but what if one did not know 
how to reason rightly from them ? ’ ’ 

“And what if the facts proclaimed as certain were ac¬ 
tually in doubt ? — which w^as usually the case. ’ ’ 

Herbert Spencer he regarded as the prince of mounte¬ 
banks. Huxley was the prince of confidence men. Darwin 
was a patient drudge, overestimating his own powers and the 
value of his own facts, going through nature — north and 
south and east and west — with a ready made theory to which 
he tried to fit as many facts of experience as possible and 
ignoring as of no consequence those facts that contradicted 
or did not square with it; and yet unable to prove or establish 
his theory to the satisfaction of others — not even to his own; 
then begging the question in an entirely new way; that is, 
begging men to believe him and his statements without his 
being able to prove them. 

For the real workers in science he had only the most pro¬ 
found respect. Pasteur was unrivalled — the real scientific 
glory of the age. Edison had been rightly styled the wizard. 
Roentgen and Marconi he called true scientists. “Let the 
whole field of speculative science,” he would exclaim, “show 
one single fact like the electric arc or the Roentgen ray. 
When it does it will have some claims to recognition but not 

[ 162] 


1 


THE NEW ASSISTANT 


till then. Let it roll up all its so called facts and knowledge 
and show something which it can place alongside of Pasteur’s 
bacteria and say of one as it says of the other: Here is 
scientific truth; here is scientific fact.” 

“But speculative science and practical science are totally 
different in their methods,” interposed Father Ramsey. 

What? you say that they are totally different.” “Not 
at all — they are exactly parallel. The methods are precisely 
the same. Observation, experiment, consequent hypothesis — 
and then — verification — the only test. In speculative 
science we have all this — except verification — the one thing 
that is really essential, hence its utter failure.” 

‘ ‘ What has the entire school done but observe, experiment, 
imagine hypotheses ? — indeed this has been their perennial 
boast. It was the constant and never ending theme of all 
Huxley’s sarcastic and barbed-wire rhetoric.” 

‘ ‘ But — which of them has shown us verification ? aye, 
there’s the rub.” 

“And yet in the other fields, of experimental science with 
hypothesis in the realm of applied and practical science, we 
have nothing but verifications heralded to us. That is their 
pride — their glory.” 

Just imagine Pasteur or Edison proclaiming in advance 
their unverified hypotheses, as Huxley and Darwin and their 
followers have been dinning theirs into the world’s ears for 
the last half century. Think you the world would tolerate 
it ? They would be regarded as mountebanks and quacks until 
they had verified their prognostications — and rightly. But 
no, they — the true scientists — announce only when the 
verification of the experiment and hypothesis is truly tested 
and forever beyond question of doubt.” 

And yet what can there be more ridiculous than specula¬ 
tive science — with its Darwins, and its Huxleys, and its 
Haeckels — proclaiming its hypotheses from the house-tops 
and when it will verify them — the very antithesis of Gilbert’s 

[163] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Mikado who ‘always tries to utter lies and every time he 
fails.’ ” 

“Why is it that only in speculations about the mystery 
of the universe men can assume absurd positions and yet find 
followers ? ’ ’ 

“Surely, if Edison or Pasteur had adopted such tactics 
and never verified a hypothesis they would be laughed at and 
their names would be the by-words of science. ” 

Indeed so profound was his contempt for the modern 
school that the speculators in the mystery of the universe and 
the expounders of the new knowledge so-called, he regarded 
as a mob of anarchists in the field of thought and knowledge 
and religion. Sometimes he compared them to Edmund 
Burke’s ‘ ‘ grass hoppers ’ ’ that heard only their own chirping, 
and completely ignored the real workers in the field. 

“Why not join hands,” he was accustomed to exclaim, 

‘ ‘ and route these impostors ? ’ ’ 

And it was his dream to unite a body of well-trained 
clergy, profoundly read in all the modern falsehood and 
familiar with its masquerade — to form an association for the 
spread of scientific and intellectual truth, whose scope would 
be the dissipation of modern error — not, however, by com¬ 
promising with it or sacrificing principle or truth to it — but 
by waging a crusade against the modern fallacies. 

“Carry the war into Africa,” he cried. “Put this mon¬ 
strous fallacy of science on the defensive. Turn the search¬ 
light of inquiry into all its recesses and chambers. Hunt up 
the lurking fallacies — if indeed they do lurk which can 
hardly bear the light of the unaided iris of the human eye — 
if men will only turn their eyes in that direction. But we 
are too busy defending our own positions. The Sophists are 
at least cunning. They keep the minds of men averted from 
their own shortcomings by keeping up an incessant clatter 
and war-cry against the mistakes of the world, and especially 
religion. And the world takes them at their own estimate 

[164] 


THE NEW ASSISTANT 


of their own value, at their own word, and on their own terms, 
because it knows no better; while in reality they are filled — 
honeycombed — with the errors and fallacies which they 
attribute to religion. It is the old cry of “stop thief” raised 
by the thief himself to avert suspicion from himself.” 

“You certainly have gauged their methods very accu¬ 
rately,” said Father Ramsey. 

The utter baselessness of modern scepticism should be 
shown by pointing out the utter absence of any foundation 
of truth in the Babel set up in opposition to it, where every¬ 
thing is but wild guess, and haphazard conjecture.” 

“A little light on the scientific methods would do the 
world no end of service just now . 5 ’ 

They have coolly appropriated all the glory of the prac¬ 
tical sciences, and claim it as their own.” 

“It is the old story of the wren and the eagle. The 
wren was carried up on the eagle’s back and when the king 
of birds turned to descend earthward, the wren soared, flew 
higher still and began to crow over her victory in outstripping 
the eagle in its flight. Speculative science has been carried 
upon the wings of practical science — on the wings of the 
Edisons and Pasteurs, the Roentgen discoverers, etc., and now 
it has forsooth soared higher than all else. It is the only 
science.” 

“It is very difficult to apply a remedy that is efficacious,” 
said the elder priest musingly. 

‘ ‘ The surest cure for a modern scientific sceptic is to read 
the modern scientific authors of this scepticism. Most men 
know only at second hand or by mere hearsay. ’ ’ 

“But not ever}^ 0 ne has the logical perception of Father 
Shairp,” said Father Ramsay. “True, keen logical percep¬ 
tion is as rare as it is to be desiderated. Lady Gushington, 
when she returns, will be overjoyed to have such an acquisi¬ 
tion to her coterie.” 

[165] 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The New Club 

T HE upshot of the whole matter was that a modern scien¬ 
tific club was soon organized at Toneton, composed of 
its best minds and ablest intellects, and called broadly 
“The Modern Science Club.” It was really the old Century 
Club reorganized. It met fortnightly for an exchange of 
views, for readings, lectures, talks, etc., but the leading 
spirits and the very soul of the club were Father Ramsay and 
his Herculean assistant. 

In this way scarcely an error came to the surface of 
thought which escaped the notice of the little Toneton club. 
It was at once analyzed, dissected and duly docketed. There 
was a due appreciation of what moderns were doing, and of 
the wonderful advances in the industrial and practical 
sciences; but there was no confusion of thought <or confound¬ 
ing of things essentially different. The speculative school of 
physical science was kept rigidly apart from the practical 
school in the classification of the Toneton club; and its own 
share of honor and merit was duly assigned to each. In 
this way it soon began to be noticed that the amount of honor 
or merit due to the speculative school was scarcely percep¬ 
tible, while the splendor and glory of the practical and 
industrial sciences seemed to illuminate the whole world. Note 
was also especially made of the fact that it was the school 
which produced the least results that was loudest in boasts 
and which impudently assailed religion. 

The mistakes and merits — where there were merits — of 
Darwin and his followers were as familiar to the Modern 


THE NEW CLUB 


Science Club as was the Apostles’ Creed. The shallowness of 
Huxley, the folly of Herbert Spencer, the braggadocio and 
swagger of Tyndall, the ‘ ‘blatherskitism : ’’ of Haeckel, (as 
Father Shairp somewhat inelegantly, but very appropriately, 
termed it,) the romancings of Kenan, the vaporings of Har- 
naek, the blasphemies of Deelitsch, the aberrations of the 
Tubingen theology — now passed away — all received their 
due share of attention. Miss Ramsay and Miss Kingsley were 
deeply interested in the scientific errors — the theology they 
left mostly to the male members of the club; but in the 
scientific questions they were very often, with their woman’s 
keen intuition, the first to pounce on the error, to detect the 
lurking fallacy, to call attention to the illegitimate conclusion, 
the spurious fact, or the imaginary truth based upon mere 
assumption and guess. 

The young man was at first somewhat untrained and 
impulsive as well as over severe and impetuous when dealing 
with errors which he regarded as gross; but the keenness of 
his logic and the searchingness of his analysis, seldom per¬ 
mitted a misstatement, a false premise, or a false conclusion 
to pass unchallenged. 

‘ ‘ They insist on applying the test of historical and 
scientific criticism to matters of faith,” he said. “Let us 
retaliate and insist upon applying the test of logic to their 
scientific dogmas, which are, for the most part matters of 
mere scientific faith.” 

And in this he proved himself a master. Nevertheless 
in all things he soon learned to reverence the opinion and 
judgment of the elder man, and always yielded with respect 
to the profound thought and unerring mental vision which lay 
hidden beneath the cool, quiet, unassuming exterior of Father 
Ramsay. Intellect always commanded his most profound 
respect — wherever he happened to meet with it; while 
scheming, cunning, intrigue, the diplomacy of the wire pulling 
order he held in the utmost contempt; but the vials of his 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


scorn were reserved for the imposture of those who posed as 
the intellectual leaders of thought without the requisite 
knowledge or the requisite intellectual equipment. “Intellec¬ 
tuality minus intellect” was the cutting phrase in which he 
was wont to characterize the pretensions of the age. 

In most matters, too, the clergymen found themselves 
aided by the genius of Dr. Pembroke. His profound talents, 
his fine medical training, his wide reading and practical 
acquaintance with what w r as best in experimental chemistry, 
his untramelled intellect which never allowed itself to be 
enslaved by the superstitious of modern science, his strict 
adhesion to logical truth, formed a combination which was 
rare indeed; and while in deductions and arguments from 
premises as well as in induction from facts, as indeed in the 
logical conclusion in all polemics, the two clergymen were 
far in the lead, Dr. Pembroke’s labors in the laboratory aided 
by the two women, gave him an authority in the field of 
experimental synthetic and analytic chemistry which never 
failed of recognition. His immense and still growing prac¬ 
tice, however, seriously encroached on his hours for intellectual 
diversion, as he styled it; but the ladies took up the labora¬ 
tory work with avidity and intelligence and even with re¬ 
markable success. In a few months they were exchanging 
intelligences with Madame Curie, whom they had met when 
abroad, and frequently they received valuable suggestions 
from her. 

“Give me such a club in every city in my diocese” said 
the Bishop when he learned what the science club was 
doing, ‘ ‘ and in two years every vestige of the a priori infidelity 
of the day will be wiped out of existence. ’ ’ 

From time to time the members of the club contributed 
articles to the magazines, and never without attracting a due 
share of attention and frequently arousing lively discussion. 
The articles of Dr. Pembroke were usually technical, ably 
reasoned, brimful of facts, and, considering his subjects, 

[*»] 


THE NEW CLUB 


singularly lucid to the lay mind. Father Ramsay’s were 
solid, scholarly, logical, convincing; but those of Father 
Shairp were brilliant, aggressive, sarcastic, often even con¬ 
temptuous. He always went directly to the pith of the error, 
exposed it, held it up to derision in such a manner that his 
articles never failed to create a stir among his admirers and 
a decided flutter among his opponents as well as among the 
compromisers, whom he flayed unsparingly with the scourges 
of his wit. 

Like Father Ramsay and Father Shairp, the club was far 
in advance of the age — twenty-five years at least. The crest 
of the wave of infidelity was at its greatest altitude, and the 
rest of the orthodox world was bewildered and some even 
dazed, while all were timid and fearful; but the little intel¬ 
lectual colony at Toneton had already grasped the full mean¬ 
ing of the attack and grappled with it successfully. Their 
articles and their attitudes were not always understood by 
their contemporaries. Occasionally a timid editor, fearful 
of what science might any day spring upon the world, 
hesitated about publishing articles in such flat defiance of 
modern teaching. Sometimes an editor feared to give his 
review the reputation of being reactionary, and took pains 
in a prefatory note to disavow the responsibility for the old- 
fashioned orthodoxy of the articles. Sometimes even a 
Catholic professor sounded a loud note of warning that the 
views against which the club labored were commonly accepted 
by Catholic scientists; but the little club kept on. Evidently 
none of those timid Christians who shrank from being classed 
with the old time orthodoxy had ever taken the pains — per¬ 
haps had not the ability — to go to the bottom of things for 
themselves, and in consequence were deceived egregiously. 

Indeed it was Father Shairp who first shook the faith 
of Herbert Spencer’s disciples in their teacher, by showing 
the utter folly of his gigantic undertaking. And it was the 
pen, aided not a little, however, by the articles of Dr, 

[169] 


same 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Pembroke and Father Ramsay that routed natural selection 
from the Darwinian field completely, and shook the popular 
confidence in the main principle of the Darwinian doctrine 
itself. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Among the Intellectuals 

I T WAS not surprising then that Lady Gushington on her 
return to Toneton lost no time in enrolling Father Shairp 
among her celebrities. Lady Gushington was an enthu¬ 
siastic Frenchwoman who had married an English Earl 
but who preferred America as a home. She regarded herself 
as a patroness of the University — if not its patron saint, and 
had taken up her residence on the hill side, within earshot of 
the Campus — where the University yell and the noisy sports 
were most delicious music to her soul. In spite of her ultra- 
Darwinism —• and infra-religious Christianity — she kept on 
the most intimate terms with the little Century club, between 
herself and which, there had always existed the most cordial 
relations. She had just returned from France after a pro¬ 
tracted absence, and on her return found all Toneton talking 
Father Shairp. She was eager to meet Father Shairp, and 
the Reception for the New Hospital soon afforded an oppor¬ 
tunity. 

The New Hospital, as its name implied, was a new building 
and the “Reception” was but a euphemistic, or rather 
euphuistic name, for a donation party. 

Lady Gushington was on the reception committee — it 
was her special evening for duty — but her responsibilities in 
that sphere seemed to terminate the moment Father Ramsay 
and Father Shairp entered the building. When they made 
their appearance, she at once disengaged herself from a 
somewhat distinguished looking gentleman with a professional 
air, with whom she appeared to be in earnest conversation, 

[171] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


and came forward to meet them. True to Father Ramsay’s 
prophecy she at once pounced on Father Shairp. She did 
not wait for an introduction but walked up to him as if they 
had been old acquaintances. 

4 ‘Father Shairp,” she said, “I understand you are very 
clever. ’ ’ This was her self-introduction and her first greeting. 

“Very,” replied Father Shairp, without moving a muscle 
of his features. Follv is sexless, was one of his mots. Another 
was: Answer a fool acording to his — or her — folly. 

“I do not mean that exactly,” she said with some slight 
discomposure. “I mean you are spoken of as an adept in 
scientific knowledge.” 

“Madame, the age is given over grossly to wicked cal¬ 
umny. You must not condemn a man on mere hearsay. On 
dit has ever been a disgraceful gossip and scandalmonger.” 

“But that I regard as the highest praise,” she said 
beaming on him with most impressive condescension. 

It was his turn to be astonished. Was it possible that 
she did not perceive that he was indulging in persiflage ? 

“I hope you will join our Advance Club. We admit only 
the brightest intellects, ’ ’ she said with an air that was meant 
to show him that his reputation had preceded him. 

“What is your standard of requirements?” he asked. 

“We will waive standards — w-a-i-v-e and w-a-v-e”—she 
said, spelling the words, “in your case, Father. We shall 
be so pleased to get such an acquisition to our membership.” 

“I am so glad that you will not oblige me to pass an 
examination. I fear, if you did, I might be rejected.” 

“Oh we all have read your famous articles in the Agora 
and every member of the club is deeply enamoured of your 
literal style as well as delighted with your scientific attain¬ 
ments. ’ ’ He bowed a graceful acknowledgement. 

This was, *of course, all very pretty and very conven¬ 
tional. But she added after a slight pause: 

[172] 


AMONG THE INTELLECTUALS 


It is so unusual to find a Catholic priest who takes 
interest in these things.” 

“I am evidently regarded as a sort of white blackbird, 
or perhaps — magpie,” he thought; but he merely said: 

I might consider the question of membership if you will 
promise not to be amused at my ignorance.” 

44 Oh! you are not like the rest of the Catholic priests; 
you live in the fin de siecle age.” 

“I do not know that I should feel flattered to learn that 
I do not measure up to the standard of my profession. I am 
not quite sure that I wish to be at all differentiated from my 
fellow-priests,” he said in a tone that seemed half serious. 
“It is a doubtful compliment to be told that I am different 
from other priests. ’ ’ 

He was now speaking frankly; although he spoke in a 
half-jesting tone. 

“Oh I do not mean that you do not measure up to the 
standard of the Catholic clergy, but that you measure far 
above and beyond them.” 

“Oh,” she continued, ignoring the fact that Father 
Shairp was about to reply, ‘ ‘ the simple fact is, Father Shairp, 
and you know it as well as we do, that Catholic priests are 
interested in their schools, their church revenues — their 
sick calls — their confessions — their fairs and other ways of 
raising money—(for the good of religion I will admit)—and 
consequently they have no time, even if they possessed the 
talents or the training, for the broader view in the present 
state of the world’s knowledge.” 

‘ ‘ I presume this is to be taken as implying that I neglect 
all these things, and consequently am delinquent in my duties 
as a priest. I am sure it is highly complimentary.” 

“How really clever you are, Father! who would have 
thought of your giving my words such a turn ? ’ ’ 

And she laughed heartily at his cleverness. 

Presently she resumed. 


[W] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“I am sure you understand me Father Shairp. It is a 
dreadful thing to be asleep in the midst of this wide awake 
world. The church should awaken to the broader view. You 
know — To change Tennyson’s tense — ‘The thoughts of 
men are widening with the process of the suns;’ or more 
appropriately, ‘Through the shadow of the globe we sweep 
into the younger day.’ See how anomalous is the church’s 
position. ’ ’ 

“I supposed the church was working out her divine 
mission of saving souls now as always. I had not heard 
before that she had abandoned her saving work. She has 
never been arraigned on that score.” 

“Oh the church is fulfilling but half her mission. Dr. 
Comprise says if she would but give her attention to the 
scientific world around her she could accomplish so much 
more, especially among the intellectual classes. And that is 
what counts. ’ ’ 

“I was not aware that the souls of the intellectual were 
of more value than the souls of the common people. The only 
standard we can judge by — that of the master — makes no 
such distinction.” The conversation was taking too serious 
a turn for persiflage, he thought. 

“You understand what I mean, Father Shairp, the in¬ 
tellectuality of her children would add so much to her pres¬ 
tige.” 

“I was not aware that man could add anything in the 
way of prestige to the works of God,” he replied with a light 
laugh. It is fairly certain Christ did not think so when he 
selected his followers. Possibly we could, however. We would 
not be the first who thought they could have given him points 
on the creation of the world and the arrangements of his 
paradisal realm.” 

He said all this with such good nature and as if he were 
dealing with a child who undertakes to grapple with im- 

[ J 74] 


AMONG THE INTELLECTUALS 


possible tasks, that she could not be offended at the seeming 
snub, and she was obliged to join him in the laughter. 

“You are really incorrigible,’’ she said. “But in all 
seriousness, why not face the matter squarely? The church 
is such a magnificent entity (this was <one of her pet terms), 
the majesty of her march through the ages, her magnificent 
prestige in past history, her long, her glorious history, her 
divine lineage, her marvelous organization, her wondrous 
vitality — her everlasting youth, — yes even her narrowness 
— all make her an object *of admiration and wonder even to 
her enemies and to the aesthetic world. Her existence is the 
grandest of poetry. If she would only conform to modern 
views what a new and dazzling brilliancy would be added to 
her inextinguishable flame.” 

Father Shairp was amazed at her volubility and especially 
at her grasp of the church’s beauties; but he was no less 
amazed at the astounding anti-climax of the close. 

“But she is more than all this,” he quietly said. “She 
is the messenger of God to men, the representative — the con¬ 
tinuation— of Christ on earth, and the guide of souls to 
heaven. ’ ’ 

“The guide -of souls!” she echoed. “Yes but she is guid¬ 
ing quite as many in the other direction by her narrowness 
and conservatism.” 

“This is a dreadful charge, and can not be entertained 
without proof. At least a bill of particulars is necessary. 
A grand jury never indicts on generalities. The charges 

must be specific.” 

“Why,” she replied, almost impatiently, “why does 
she stand still in these days of progress. The world is 
sweeping by in triumphal march and we are simply standing 

still.” 

“Why not rush out and join the procession if we like 
marching, Lady Gushington ? , he asked in his most pro¬ 
voking manner. 


[U 5] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


She was forced to laugh in spite of herself. 

‘‘Why? why?”, she repeated. “Because in the march 
of modern intellectual glory the church has fettered our 
footsteps. That is why we do not join the procession,” she 
said with some show of feeling. 

“Oh! I begin to understand. You mean the majestic 
sweep of the chariots of intellect, thronged with all the 
great and the mighty, freighted with the spoils of the ages 
and laden down with the trophies of science, and we can 
only climb the balcony, or to a coin of vantage, or a chimney- 
top, and look at the pageant as it passes. It is the old circus 
pageant of the horse and his rider and the chariots of Israel, 
sweeping past in long parade, and the same old itching to 
be in the chariot — that the world may gaze at us. But that 
is and would be vanity.” 

She winced slightly but answered in a moment. 

“Oh! nonsense you are too clever not to understand. 
But how grand it would be, how noble, how majestic, if the 
church — the greatest power which the world has ever seen — 
should take up the subjects of the day, assimilate its knowl¬ 
edge ; that is, the knowledge of the times, and reject some of 
its own old, medieval notions about cosmogony which are no 
longer tenable. The nations would fall down and call her 
blessed. ’ ’ 

“They are doing that every day,” he said, with fervor. 

“But the intellectual ones are not. The cream of the 
human mind is not. The church, hampered by its absurd 
conservatism and its reactionary spirit, is making her intel¬ 
lectual children the laughing stock of her enemies. ’ ’ 

“The church was, even at the outset, a scandal to the 
Jews and a stumbling block to the Gentiles. But she has 
ever been the mouthpiece -of God to the world just the same.” 

“Oh Father,” she said appealingly, “you do not know 
how difficult it is for an intellectual person to mingle with 
the intellectual world and yet be a strict Catholic, especially 

[ J 7 6 ] 


AMONG THE INTELLECTUALS 

when you know that the church is wrong and the intellectual 
world right.” 

“Wh-e-e-o-o-w;”, he whistled rather ungallantly. 

She perceived her mistake. “I do not mean that she is 
wrong in her religious beliefs. But she is certainly wrong in 
matters of science,” she hastily corrected. 

The church does not teach science; that is not her 
province.” 

Precisely what I say,” she rejoined. “But why does 
she not leave it alone?” 

‘ ‘ I have never known the church to intrude on the prov¬ 
ince of science until science trespassed upon her grounds. 
She has a perfect right to expel trespassers from her own 
premises.” 

11 But when they do clash — wow! Then you have it, ’’ 
rejoined Mrs. Gushington with gusto. 

“But the only science the Church teaches is the science 
of the saints.” 

“But does she not uphold some scientific teachings which 
happen to be utterly antiquated?” she inquired sharply. 

“Antiquated!” he repeated. “I am not sure whether the 
term implies praise or censure.” 

She did not reply directly. She simply called out to 
Professor Comprise who was now standing on the outside of an 
animated group, himself the very antithesis of animation. 

“Come here” she cried, “and help me to defend our 
cause against this Goliath.” And without further ceremony 
or introduction of the proposed antagonists she cried, “Father 
Shairp will not admit that the church holds antiquated notions 
on many scientific questions.” 

“If antiquity is used as a term of reproach, certainly 
by all means, I deny it. If antiquity means honor and 
prestige then I admit it.” 


[* 77 ] 


CHAPTER XX 


More Intellectuality and Still More 

T HE NEWCOMER invoked by Lady Gushington was 
none other than the famous Professor Comprise, the 
distinguished looking gentleman from whom she had 
just disengaged herself. He it was who made the fa¬ 
mous offer or rather invented the famous device, by which 
religion was to be rescued from the devouring jaws of 
science, that is, by letting science eat it outright. Father 
Shairp was more than pleased with this diversion. The 
argument was becoming serious, and needed to be met 
frankly and directly. And he had made it a rule never to 
argue with a woman, and above all he would never dream 
of entering upon a very serious controversy with one on the 
subject of religion. Therefore the arrival of Professor 
Comprise was an agreeable interlude. He could talk 
seriously and earnestly now on the subject without restraint, 
as he could not have attempted to do before, he felt. 

“Father Shairp denies that the church is wrong and the 
world right on all modern questions of dispute” she said 
addressing Professor Comprise. 

“What defence does he make against the charge of the 
church’s reactionary attitude?” Professor Comprise in¬ 
quired. 

“I do not quite understand. What do you mean by 
reactionary?” said Father Shairp, sniffing the air like a 
war-horse scenting the battle from afar. 

“I mean that in this age of progress the church alone 
stands still. Nay what is more she will have her children 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


stand still while all the rest of the world is advancing,” 
pompously replied the professor. 

“I still fail to comprehend your meaning. How is the 
church reactionary ? There has been no new revelation. There 
can be no progress in faith or morals. These settled once are 
settled for all time. All the world knows that these are not 
progressive sciences.’* Father Shairp measured his words 
carefully. 

A scornful laugh was the reply of the professor. 

“At least the world is now learning it from the church’s 
attitude,” replied the professor with as much sarcasm as 
the words could carry injected into them by his tone and 
manner. 

“What would you have?” suddenly asked Father 
Shairp somewhat pointedly. 

The suddenness of the question as well as the shifting 
of positions disconcerted the professor for a moment; but he 
instantly recovered himself. 

“I would have the church move with the world on its 
wheels of progress instead of being a clog upon its advance¬ 
ment. ’ ’ 

“Let us leave generalities. In what particular is she a 
clog, as you say? In faith or morals — those are her prov¬ 
inces?” quietly rejoined Father Shairp. 

“In both,” said the professor somewhat doggedly. 

“A professor — a university professor (I presume) 
would not ask for a faith that was fickle and a morality 
that was changeable. I am inclined to think that he would 
be apt to regard neither as worth having.” 

Professor Comprise was a little startled by the un¬ 
expected view of the question. He had not figured upon 
being brought back to fundamentals. Professor Comprise, 
like all of his school, was all very well as long as he could 
go on uncontradicted and exclaim and declaim in general 

[W] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


terms against religion and its stagnation of the human intel¬ 
lect, but when turned upon, he was shallow and unresourceful. 

“We all believe in the law of progress/’ was the only 
answer he could stammer. 

“Where progress is feasible. But there is no such thing 
as progress in the rule of three,” said Father Shairp coolly. 

“Do you mean to say that the church can not progress,” 
said the other doggedly. 

“I mean to say that there can be no progress in religious 
truth without a new revelation. Faith and morals are un¬ 
changing. If they were not, woe to the w 7 orld!” 

“I am not sure that in morals there can not be progress 
and even in religious truth too.” The Professor had been 
reading Professor James. 

“Do you advocate a belief in a changing morality? Do 
you maintain that what was right yesterday is wrong to-day 
and what was wrong yesterday is right today, absolutely 
speaking?” 

“But there is a law of scientific truth. That truth is 
progressing. Why does not the church take up this truth 
instead of clinging to her medievalisms,” he answered mus¬ 
tering up new courage as the word “scientific” fell upon his 
ears from his own lips. He had spoken the mighty word, the 
shibboleth which was also a talisman, and his courage rose 
rapidly. 

“I am sure I am not aware of any place in which the 
church has undertaken to teach scientific truth. That is 
exclusively the province of science.” 

“Aha! my good Father,” said the professor now tri¬ 
umphantly. “But the church does pretend to teach science, 
and in her teaching of it she contradicts modern scientific 
truth — contradicts it flatly — flatly again and again — flatly 
contradicts, flatly contradicts.” 

“In what particular, if I may ask?” inquired Father 
Shairp with an assumption of meekness that was not real. 

[rSo] 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


‘ ‘ In everything — in all the results of modern knowledge 
and learning.” 

I am not aware that the church has pronounced at all 
on the subject of modern questions.” 

“No, that is it precisely. If she would only pronounce 
we should know where to find her. But she acts like the 
clog on the wheel. She will not permit her children to adopt 
them. ’ ’ 

“Believe me if she undertakes to forbid her children to 
adopt any modern notion, it is because these notions are not 
truth but error. ’ ’ 

“But those questions are not religious truth, they are 
scientific truth, in which she has no business meddling. ’’ 

“Just a moment ago you accused her of not recognizing 
this scientific truth; now you say she condemns it. It is quite 
evident then that she has recognized it, has weighed it in 
the balance and found it to be not truth but error. But 
leave the Church and its teachings out of the question alto¬ 
gether. Forget that I am a Catholic priest, and regard me 
merely as a two-legged rational animal with some notion of the 
laws of logic; for it is in this capacity solely that I am ob¬ 
jecting to your half-reasoned hypotheses.” 

The Professor feinted. He ignored the suggestion and 
replied: 

“The best intellects of the age have adopted the new 
learning. Why should we drag behind ? Why in this intellec¬ 
tual age should webe living in the ancient swamps of Judiasm? 
Why should we be pinning our faith to the beliefs which the 
world has outgrown. The world is now in its full intellectual 
development, why should we as grown men adopt the super¬ 
stition which the age has outgrown ? The intellect of our time 
can not adopt childish opinions.” 

“You regard our age as highly intellectual?” 

“Pre-eminently so. The most intellectual era that has 
yet dawned upon our planet. ’ ’ 

[181] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


t ‘ And other ages were childish and puerile in comparison, 
I suppose?” 

“Exactly so. What is the meaning of intellect was not 
really known before our day. ’ ’ And the professor’s emphasis 
expressed intense conviction. 

“And what is the meaning of it in our day? In what 
does the intellectuality consist, may I ask ? ’ ’ 

“Si monumentum quaeris, circumspice. Everything 
shows it. ’’ 

“The intellectuality of the leading men of our epoch, 
especially, I suppose?” 

“Thou hast said it. Perfectly correct. An age of won¬ 
drous intellectual enlightenment. ” 

“And compared with which the Apostolic age and all 
prior to it — or posterior — were puerile. ’ ’ 

“I see you appreciate as I do the great enlightenment of 
the times. Why not jump into the bandwagon and move 
with them ? ’ ’ 

“But where are the giant minds of our age so boasted 
that are so wondrously illumined by truth or capable of 
grasping it ? ” 

“The world is full of them,” he replied with the air of 
one who might say, “Open your eyes and see one before you 
in my person.” 

‘ ‘ What are the tests of an intellectual age ? ’ ’ calmly asked 
Father Shairp. 

“Progress,” he answered proudly. 

“Mankind are accustomed to judge of a tree by its fruits. 
What are the fruits of the intellectuality of our age — so 
boasted, so incomparable.” There was a sarcasm in his tone 
which was ominous. 

“Again I answer look around you—” this time in the 
vernacular. ’ ’ 

“Precisely what I am going to do. But I am going to 

[182] 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 

make a comparison of this intellectual age with the despised 
times which are called childish, puerile, superstitious/’ 

There was a steely ring in his tone which seemed to gnaw 
at the bottom of the professor’s stomach. 

“Art, science, philosophy, literature are the gauges of 
intellectuality in all the ages of history.” 

Professor Comprise felt his soul dilate when he mentioned 
‘‘science;’’ there at least he felt, “I am secure.’’ 

‘ ‘ If poetry be a standard, the poetry of despised times has 
been the model for all succeeding ages. It has never been 
surpassed, never perhaps, equalled. What has this your in¬ 
tellectual age produced to compare with it ? There have been 
ages which have produced such poetry but not your intellec¬ 
tual one. ” 

Professor Comprise felt the iron enter his soul. He knew 
that by this test he was doomed. He had never thought <of 
this before. 

“In oratory — eloquence” Father Shairp continued in 
his metallic voice, every word of which deliberately uttered 
went to the very vitals of the professor. “In oratory, the 
despised ages have given models which the ages have ever 
since been vainly trying to copy. Who are the orators of your 
intellectual age ? ’ ’ 

Professor Comprise was silent. 

4 4 In literature, the despised ages have given us what has 
served as models and fountains for the young generations 
of the world ever since, which have outlived time, and which 
have been to the world the models of aestheticism and beauty. 
The Greek model of form and beauty has been the standard 
of the world ever since. What has your intellectual age to 
compare with it ? What can it show in comparison ? ’ ’ 

Professor Comprise and Lady Gushington were both 

silent — even slightly stunned. 

“In philosophy again you have the masters. Subtle 

intellects that touched every debatable question— your 

[183] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Socrates—your Plato—your Democritus—nay your Epicurus. 
What have all succeeding generations done but elaborate their 
views. What has your science all led up to but either to the 
7 rpore v\€ of Aristotle or the atoms of Democritus? Not a 
step further. We shall omit for the present the Christian 
philosophers whom doubtless you would not want to admit... 

“In architecture, we have been copying and modifying 
Greek and Roman art ever since and have not bettered it. 
Imagine our age producing an original like the Athenian 
Acropolis. What has your age to compare with the produc¬ 
tions of the chisel of Phydias?” 

“But; er-er-er —” muttered the professor who was dumb¬ 
founded at this arrangement of thought; but he could proceed 
no further. 

“In painting, perhaps, there is not so much; but what 
has this age to show that even equals it. And the golden era 
of the art is not certainly the present one which has not 
produced a single great artist.” 

The professor was thinking. Father Shairp continued: 

“And vet — we are told — and have it dinned into our 
«/ 

ears — day after day — that this wretched abortion of an 
age of ours is so intellectual that it far surpasses all others — 
that we have so advanced in intellect that we can not accept 
what suited those unintellectual ages. Faugh! ” he said with 
infinite disgust. “What of the age that gives us the greatest 
of all Sciences — the Science of Mathematics which traces 
out even for the most distant times the safe and unmistak¬ 
able path of this Science? What of the Science of Logic, 
which, as Kant says, has not had to retrace a single step, and 
has not, to the present day, been able to make a single step 
in advance ? Where in the entire realm of the world today is 
there one shred of intellectuality to be found? Where an 
intellect that can rise above the commonplace? There never 
was so dreary, weary an epoch as ours if you take pure intel¬ 
lectuality as the standard. Why we do not even understand 

[184] 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 

the meaning of the word. And this is the age that presumes 
to question the beliefs of the intellectual age! We are too 
intellectual, forsooth, to accept truths that those ages accep¬ 
ted. The nineteenth century has reared a race of pigmies — 
intellectual pigmies — and we have the presumption of talking 
about our age — as intellectual — as too intellectual — to 
adopt or accept the teachings of other times. There never was 
in the history of the world an age so barren in pure intellec¬ 
tuality as this. And the proof of it is in the low mongrel 
standard of those whom it has accepted and now accepts as 
its leading lights. A stream can not rise higher than its 
source.” The loud tones came into competition with the 
strains of the orchestra. And many persons, in moving 
through the building, inspecting it, turned and looked at the 
little group. 

“You have much reason on your side in the question of 
the intellectuality of our times,” said Professor Comprise, 
“but you certainly underrate the value of our country.” 

“I have said nothing whatever about the value of our 
century. This is not a question of dollars or pounds sterling. 
I have simply spoken of the intellectuality of our times of 
which you boast. Which was the most capable of judging 
truth? Of ascertaining the truth or falsehood of a statement? 
Of criticising the probability or the improbability of events 
upon which momentous issues hang? This age or past ages? 
It is to this Greece and this Rome, which the world has ever 
since been faintly copying, that your missionaries of Chris¬ 
tianity came with their challenge to make test <of the truth of 
their religion; and their religion stood the test in spite of all 
the intellectual and material opposition which these times 
could furnish. And yet we are told that it is only our age 
with its so-called scientific criticism that can sift the truth 
or falsehood of an event and distinguish between the imagi¬ 
nary and the real. Where is there one single intellect in this 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


age of ours whose opinion is worth a straw over and above 
that of his fellows ? ’ ’ 

Lady Gushington during this harangue was the embodi¬ 
ment of emotion. The professor could only feebly and humbly 
acquiesce in the new statements which had never occurred to 
him before. At last he mustered up courage to speak. 

“My good father, your condemnation is too sweeping. 
Behold the proof in our science. I concede the arts, literature, 
philosophy to the ancients, perhaps all the higher intellectual¬ 
ity; but for insight into the mysteries of the universe, you 
must admit that our age is far in advance of them. Perhaps 
you would not call it intellectual and possibly would be per¬ 
fectly right in refusing to so characterize it, but the fact 
remains that we have made a progress to which the ages have 
been strangers.” 

“The difficulty I find with all persons who speak upon 
this subject is that they confound things that are essentially 
different — material progress and intellectuality. Improved 
methods of breeding cattle is not intellectuality. The same 
is true of improved methods in lighting, heating, travelling, 
and communicating thought. These are all more or less 
accidental. These are the result of experiment more or less 
ingenious; but it is a false classification to catalogue them 
under the head of intellectuality. Some of the greatest dis¬ 
coveries that the world has known have been the result of 
mere accident. And these very often have simply opened up 
the road to others in the same line. ’ ’ 

“I will not deny that there have been very many useful 
discoveries that have come to us by mere accident; but there 
is also in the intellectual sciences a vast advance over former 
times. We certainly have a deeper insight into the mysteries 
of the universe,” said the Professor with eagerness and 
enthusiasm. 

“And what mystery of the universe, pray, has your 
deeper insight, as you call it, solved?” 

[ 1 86] 


I 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


“Solved? Perhaps not any — but wonderful progress 
towards solution is being made/’ was the reply. 

“I would be pleased to learn on what particular point 
the human mind has made progress in this matter,” said 
Father Shairp with great coolness. This was his stronghold, 
and he was glad the professor had broached the subject. ‘ ‘ Tell 
me one single fact that is established beyond question, and 
where we have advanced beyond the days of Aristotle upon 
this matter. I speak of facts — not guesses or hypotheses, 
however popular.” 

“You are not a believer in evolution then?” blandly in¬ 
quired the professor with a marked elevation of the eyebrows. 

“Like every rational man I shall believe in evolution 
when it is established as a scientific truth; not before. ’ * 

This time not only were the eyebrows of the professor 
elevated, but the eyes were opened in astonishment and the 
mouth likwise. He glared at Father Shairp in astonishment 
as if he had met an unknown specimen — a curiosity in the 
intellectual world. He glowered at him from behind his 
glasses. 

“Oho! Oho!” he exclaimed. “And so you do not be¬ 
lieve in evolution. Why it is the glory of the nineteenth 
century, just as gravitation is the glory of the seventeenth, 
and Darwin is the Newton of the present age;”—and the 
professor beamed with triumph, and looked Father Shairp 
over with intense interest. 

“Jew, I thank thee for that word — gravitation: gravita¬ 
tion— Newton. When evolution is as clearly demonstrated 
as gravitation, when Darwin’s claims to fame rest on as sure 
a foundation as those of Newton, I shall worship at the shrine 
of Darwin’s greatness as I now do at that of Newton’s. But 
where is there such a demonstration ? ’ 

The professor winced. Here was, he thought, for the 
first time, the weakness of Darwinism which left it at the 
mercy of sceptics. 

[187] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“I must confess,” he admitted frankly, “There is no 
such demonstration.” 

“And this is what you call science! And this is what 
you call the solution of great problems! And this is 
what you call intellectuality! For is not Darwinism the chief 
corner-stone of the so-called intellectuality of the twentieth 
century ? ’’ 

Perhaps it was owing to the intenseness of Father 
Shairp’s manner, but the professor felt all his courage ooze 
out at his fingers’ ends. What answer could he make to this 
home thrust? None. All his boasted science and all his 
boasted intellectuality, he found falling from beneath his 
feet the moment he entered the realm of logic, He felt that 
they were a sham and a delusion. And there dawned upon 
him, perhaps for the first time, the idea that the true great¬ 
ness of the age consisted not in intellectuality but in material 
progress. 

But Father Shairp had not finished. He saw the dilemma 
of the professor and he wished to drive his arguments home. 

“There is,” he continued, “an intellectual progress so- 
called and no one can deny it. The intellect of our day con¬ 
sists in this:—it has succeeded in nerving itself up to the 
point of naughtiness. It has, like a wayward boy, nerved 
itself up to the point of irreverence and regards itself smart 
and intellectual in consequence. But we all know what is the 
smartness that makes an undutiful and naughty boy throw 
off the reverence due to his parents. He does not hesitate to 
criticise — that is part of his emancipation. He has lost 
reverence for the parents whom he should revere and respect. 
But no one calls it intellectuality in him. He knows no more 
than they do. He is only bold and irreverent enough to 
criticise them. We know no more than formerly; but we 
assume it as a prerogative, having cast off reverence, to criti¬ 
cise where we know nothing, and to be saucy and impudent 
where we are only ignorant. ’ ’ . 


[188] 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


Lady Gushington was now entirely on Father Shairp’s 
side. She had veered around completely, moved more even 
by the ineffectual attempt of the professor, whose aid she had 
invoked, than by the arguments of Father Shairp. She looked 
-on approvingly as he proceeded. 

“But your morality, which has come into the world with 
your theories and your so called intellectuality, what is it? 
Nothing. The morality of the day is the morality of a “boss’’ 
trade; and it has come to us from the boldness and effrontery 
of science itself. A man closes one eye and looks his neighbor 
in the face and says in effect ‘D—n you! You are going to 
beat (which is but cheat, made more striking) me if you can, 
and I am going to beat you if I can; ’ and this throughout the 
entire program. It has come down to us from a bluffing science. 
Science does precisely this and this is the morality of the 
day. To the intellectual bluff of science and its false shams 
and pretensions we owe all this sham everywhere — coming 
down to us from a sham and counterfeit science. Why, I 
have even heard of a professor of theology — now a bishop in 
one of the Evangelical churches—who admonished his favorite 
pupil: ‘Remember, Jerry, a bluff goes.’ Quite an improve¬ 
ment on the advice of St. Paul to Timothy. ’ ’ 

He spoke forcibly for he felt strongly. 

“Well,” said Professor Comprise, “setting aside the 
failure of science to discover any new truth regarding the 
origin of things or the mystery of the universe, you will admit 
that the church should not discourage scientific criticism.” 

“By the way, what is scientific criticism?” inquired 
Father Shairp with a dangerous twinkle. 

“Scientific criticism,” the professor replied innocently 
enough, ‘ ‘ is the application to the bible, the church, the beliefs 
of Christianity, the history in the bible and, in a word to all 
points where it is applicable, the methods of science — of 
attaining scientific truth. ’ ’ 

“Why not begin by applying it to science? True charity 

[189] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


begins at home,” said Father Shairp turning bo him and 
looking him squarely in the eyes. 

The easy power showed in the manner of Father Shairp 
was that of a giant toying playfully with a child; or of a 
mastiff toying with a puppy of three months. Professor 
Comprise winced perceptibly but managed to reply: 

“You will admit that in our time we can not accept the 
interpretations of the fathers or the historical statements of 
the bible.” 

“Too intellectual,” said Father Shairp with a look of 
amusement which covered his opponent, enveloping him com¬ 
pletely, and which made the professor regret that he had 
made the remark. 

“Of course,” pursued Father Shairp in his coldest iron¬ 
ical vein that bit like iron into the mind of the professor, 
“of course the age is too intellectual for those puerilities of 
Augustine and Aquinas. We are giants in intellect now. We 
have outgrown the puerilities of the fathers. We have grown 
to the stature of men — men with intellects rounded out by 
science. Look at our leaders. Consider their intellects, their 
depth, and grasp and power. Pshaw! try to impose the 
puerilities of Augustine on an age that has Mrs. Humphrey 
Ward for a teacher .” 1 

The professor himself was forced to burst outright in 
laughter in which even Lady Gushington heartily joined. 

“Why delude ourselves with our foolish notions of supe¬ 
riority and intellectuality,” seriously pursued Father Shairp. 
“Good heavens,” he exclaimed, “imagine a real intellectual 
giant of those days which we pretend to deride, taking a 
survey of our gallery of idols. ’ * 

Lady Gushington elevated her eyebrows. The thought 
was evidently new to her and she admired it. 

“Imagine an Augustine, an Aquinas, a Bonaventure 


x Mrs. Humphrey Ward, herself, boasted that she was the protagonist 
of the Modernists. 

[190] 



MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


weighing in the balance our twentieth century intellectual- 
ists, or rather our pseudo-intellectualists and their equipment 
for the task they undertake. Who are they — our intellectual 
men?” he asked almost fiercely. And still more fiercely he 
ran over the names of a few of our latter day celebrities, 
telling them off with the thumb of his left hand against the 
fingers of the same, beginning with the little finger, the hand 
half upright in the air, and the right gesticulating eloquently. 

“Our Lady-, J-, F-, Professor J—*—, ” he laughed 

derisively. ‘These be thy gods, Oh Israel.’ And thus he 
swept the entire realm of celebrities in fine scorn holding up 
for sentence as it were, the nonentities whom the world calls 
its gods. “And,” he concluded dramatically, “the age calls 
itself intellectual! ’ ’ 

Lady Gushington, who was in a sort of mild ecstacy all 
the while now broke into loud applause clapping her little 
hands. 

“I knew,” she said gushingly, “that there was much to 
be said on the side of Christianity and the church could give 
a good account of itself when the time arrived. ’ ’ 

“Whom do you regard, Father Shairp,” she asked effu¬ 
sively, “the great intellects of our time?” 

“In our day, the only minds that rose above third rate, 
in England, that is, as the world rates human intellects, and 
has rated them throughout history, have been Gladstone and 
Cardinal Newman, both minds of entirely different orders.” 

“And in America,” she inquired. 

“In America” — and he weighed his words, and spoke 
them with marked deliberation — “there have not been more 
than three intellects of the third magnitude in two genera¬ 
tions. ’ ’ 

“That is rather hard on America, Father Shairp, is it 
not ? ’ ’ said the Professor. 

“I will modify that,” replied Father Shairp, “by saying 
that there can be little doubt that there have been intellects to 






HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


rank with the best, but in our strenuous life, they have been 
engaged in the pursuit of money rather than of truth/’ 

‘ ‘ In what rank do you place our great discoverers, then ? ’ ’ 
asked the professor as if questioning his classification. 

“We were speaking, I think, of intellectuality,” he re¬ 
plied. ‘ ‘ The great inventors and discoverers, I take it, belong 
to a totally different order; perhaps equally great if not 
greater (certainly the greatest material benefactors of man¬ 
kind,) but not by any means intellectual in the true sense of 
the word. An application at the patent office is not an intel¬ 
lectual achievement — no matter how much genius it evinces. 
All discoveries and inventions are of the same order as the 
invention of wooden nutmegs which no one dreams of class¬ 
ing as intellectual. There is doubtless a wide range in the 
world of discovery, and here, too, star differs from star in 
glory and in the brilliancy of its light; but all are the best 
benefactors of the human race. Yet as I take it, the province 
of intellectuality is the discovery and apprehension of truth, 
not of useful invention. The intellect was made for the 
perception of truth just as the eye is for the perception of 
light. The test of the intellect is its power of apprehending 
truth. It is evident then that intellectuality is toto coelo 
different from experiment and invention. Nevertheless, there 
is no question but that those who have done most for the 
material progress of the race are not so much the men of 
intellect, as the discoverers and inventors. Pasteur seems to 
have combined more of both in himself than any other man 
that has lived within a century. ’ ’ 

“But why do you disbelieve in the theory of Darwin,” 
said the professor, reverting to the original subject. 

“The eccentric old duffer,” he cried with a gesture of 
impatience. “He is the biggest humbug of ten centuries. 
Talk about your intellectuality. An age that on the slimsy 
evidence adduced, swallows Darwin whole with his silly gen¬ 
eralizations, so far from being classed as intellectual, manifests 

[i9 2 ] 


MORE INTELLECTUALITY AND STILL MORE 


only the strongest symptoms of hopeless imbecility. The 
sensible men of this our day, the really great scientists, like 
Virchow and Agassiz rejected Darwin’s theory with scorn.” 

‘‘Oh! Oh! Father Shairp. How can you talk so about 
the light of our age? All the world has submitted to Dar¬ 
winism. ’ ’ 

“The strongest proof possible that the world is on the 
verge of insanity and sadly needs a guardian.” 

The professor was interested. His curiosity was aroused 
and although they had talked long, he was quite curious to 
hear his views on the Darwinian problem. 




[• 93 ] 


CHAPTER XXI 


The Perennial Bore 

i <TTTHAT are your objections to Darwin’s views?” in- 
V V quired the Professor. 

“That he does not prove them,” and although 
the words came like a most impressive shower of grape shot, 
each word was distinct and hissed like an arrow. 

Professor Comprise somehow wished he had not asked 
the question. 

“I admit his proofs are not convincing,” he said minc- 
ingly, “but there is at least much plausibility in what he 
says. ’ ’ 

“I have heard many falsehoods in my time that sounded 
quite plausible. I hope you would not advise me to take their 
plausibility as a proof of their truth.” 

The professor winced again. Evidently there was no 
chance to trifle with so sharp an intellect and so acrid a 
tongue. Proofs he must have. 

“You are, doubtless, a creationist, and consequently 
prejudiced against Darwin’s views.” 

“I am certainly not a Darwinist. I can see no reason 
for discarding creation, at least until I have seen a theory 
broached that is not the off-spring of bedlam. There is no 
question of faith or the teaching of the Church here. Com¬ 
mon sense and common logic alike rebel against the notion of 
accepting scientific theories in advance of the evidence.” 

“Oh! Father Shairp,” replied the professor with a 
smile of tolerant superiority and reliance on his broader 
knowledge. “It is not quite so bad as that.” 

[! 94 ] 


THE PERENNIAL BORE 


“The Darwinian hypothesis is nothing more or elss than 
the Darwinian delusion. Darwin is perhaps not so much to 
blame. He is not the first man that has been effected with 
the mild form of insanity which sees proof of his hobby in 
everything with which he comes in contact; and he will not 
be the last. The world which follows him, it is , that is to be 
pitied. It is the strongest proof of the degeneracy of the human 
intellect to see so easy an acceptance of an unverified problem. 
Why should the world follow him into a second error?” 

“You are not very complimentary to your neighbors, nor 
very flattering to the present state of enlightenment, since 
you class us with the inhabitants of bedlam.” 

“It is sometimes necessary to characterize things by their 
proper names and call a spade a spade. . Darwin was just as 
positive and just as insane on his theory of coral reefs, until 
it was disproved.” 

The Professor squirmed at the mention of “coral reefs,” 
but managed to answer: 

“Then you really regard us Darwinians in a very bad 
way.” 

“Very. If the state of things continues, I fear that 
Darwin’s theory will be proved inversely, by the return of 
the man to its original ape conditions — of the understanding 
at least.” 

All laughed at this new sally. 

“I have half a mind to propound in my own name a 
new theory: that man is fast — rapidly — falling back into the 
ape state. I think I could easily obtain as much proof for it as 
Darwin did for his. ” 

“But the best men of our age have adopted Darwinism, 
the scientists, the philosophers, the world at large —except 
a few prejudiced individuals like yourself.” 

“Adopted it without proof! This only proves what I 
have been saying. A body of teachers — of learned men — 
who adopt a theory of such far-reaching significance as this, 

[ J 95] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


merely on the suggestion of an insane duffer, without proof 
of any kind — is rather a sad commentary on human intelli¬ 
gence. We are reverting — really reverting rapidly — in this 
age. In this retrograde march there is really rapid progress. 7 ’ 

The professor winced though he laughed. He began to 
feel it was not very creditable to him to have adopted a 
scientific theory on such flimsy evidence. He had expected to 
have some fun with Father Shairp and his views. He had 
heard of his brusqueness, and had taken it for granted that 
he would make an easy mark for his wit. He was not realizing 
his hopes. 

“But Darwin does give some proof,” he said a little 
crestfallen. 

“The only proof I have been able to find, and I have 
read his works very carefully, is a begging, and a pleading, 
and a beseeching of the world to accept his views and to take 
the wretched attempts at reasoning which he offers (an insult 
to the human intellect) in lieu of proof. And this is science! 
And this is intellect! ’ ’ 

“But his theory accounts for things.” 

“And the number of things it does not account for is in¬ 
finite. Science should be scientific and not substitute imagi¬ 
nation for demonstration, or probability for fact.” 

“I admit that probability is not truth though it some¬ 
times leads to truth. ’ ’ 

“But Darwin’s theory is not even probable. It contra¬ 
dicts science.” 

“Oh! you mean there is an insurmountable barrier be¬ 
tween the species. But you know this has long since been 
disproved. ’ ’ 

“I mean that the laws of nature are constant and have 
been constant throughout all time — a point which the scien¬ 
tists themselves so much insist on.” 

1 ‘ Exactly. ’ ’ 

“Up to a certain point the tendency of organisms is ho 

[196] 


THE PERENNIAL BORE 


vary. The change comes with perfect ease. The variation 
arises spontaneously or without great difficulty. But there 
is a point at which the variation balks, so to speak. Even in 
artificial training the variation is not achieved at all only with 
the greatest difficulty.” 

“Um er-er-er;” mumbled the professor. 

“Therefore notwithstanding the tendency to variety in 
nature and the ease with which even marked variety is pro¬ 
duced, there is a point at which nature rebels and no amount 
of coaxing can induce her to proceed further.” 

The professor was growing slightly nervous. 

“This would imply that at certain ages the process of 
variation is not natural to nature — so to speak, and that she 
demurs even when urged by man with all the ingenuity of his 
artificial processes. If then even when all the powers of 
nature are supplemented by the ingenuity of man, nature 
refuses to be led beyond a certain point even under the ur¬ 
gency of the combined efforts of nature and science, it is very 
evident that the so-called process of evolution is at certain 
points contrary to the laws of nature.” 

The professor began to breathe quickly. 

“There is, then, evidently, a conservatism in nature. If 
any fact of science is certain, this is. This conservatism of 
nature, according to the showing of the scientists themselves, 
is an established law of nature at least in our time. But as the 
laws of nature in past time were not different from what they 
are to-day, this rebellion of nature must have proved an in¬ 
surmountable obstacle to the workings of Darwin’s theory — 
in fact must have rendered it an impossibility. Therefore 
Darwin’s theory is not only not probable, but it is an impos¬ 
sibility. ’ ’ 

The professor’s jaw fell. He stood looking into vacancy. 
If the premises of this giant were true there was no escaping 
the conclusion — and there did not seem to be any valid 
reason for denying the premises. However he would see. 

[W] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Meanwhile he did a foolish thing: he got angry. “In any 
case,” he blurted, “we are not going back to creationism.” 

Father Shairp smiled at the exhibition of feeling. 

“That things have to be accounted for,” he said calmly, 
“is no reason why men should give foolish reasons for the 
process. Better leave them mysteries than cling to folly in 
attempting to account for them. One thing is certain, Dar¬ 
winism is an a priori impossibility, in view of the constancy 
of the laws of nature, to say nothing of the numberless in¬ 
superable difficulties which the theory engenders. You can 
not establish it without forcing nature to contradict herself.” 

The pressing throng was now forging through the corri¬ 
dors, then down from the open corridor into the operating 
room, the windows of which were wide open. Through them, 
from the depot, there came the rising and falling of the college 
yell chanted by the returning victorious football team of the 
university — ‘ ‘ Ton-e-ton! Ton-e-ton! rah-rah-rah! ” — and 
some minutes later it was taken up by the body at the uni¬ 
versity itself, and came floating across the valley from the hill 
opposite. Both the combatants at last lifted their heads and 
looked in the direction of the yell. The swelling throng car¬ 
ried them apart and abruptly ended the argument. 


[198] 


CHAPTER XXII 


Discussion with Varieties 

B UT the discussion, long, earnest — even tedious — though 
it was, did not end here. For Professor Comprise it 
had indeed ended. He was very glad of the rude 
interruption which carried himself and his antagonist apart, 
and did not seek a renewal. Not so Lady Gushington. As 
soon as the commotion had subsided, she sought out Father 
Shairp again and was soon by his side. The throngs still 
increased. The corridors of the Hospital were packed and 
it required a vigorous effort to move at all. Nevertheless Lady 
Gushington, with a demure little lady in her wake, clave a 
path through the throng for the Herculean form of Father 
Shairp, whom, with his companion — a newly ordained priest 
— she beckoned to follow. 

She again chose a room where there were, indeed, many 
persons, but in which she nevertheless managed to find seats 
by an open window within hearing of the strains of the 
orchestra. 

She lost no time in resuming the discussion. 

“Why, at least,” she said eagerly, “will the church not 
listen to a compromise ? Even this would help wonderfully. ’ ’ 
“What sort of compromise would you have? Sound 
sense and common logic rebel against the notion of accepting 
mere theories until they are proven,” was his reply. “But 
why drag in the church at all, at least until logic and common 
sense are satisfied ? Or is this an effort to procure the church’s 
sanction in order to give your theories prestige ? ’ ’ 

“If the church, or, what is the same thing, the church 
authorities, would only listen t/o the Catholic scientists — the 

09 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


lay professors, for instance, in our colleges and universities 
—the scientists who are Catholic—they would understand the 
situation. 9 ’ 

‘ 4 1 am not sure that I grasp your meaning. ’ ’ 

“Well, for instance, there is Professor Comprise, who 
declares he could easily effect a compromise which would be 
satisfactory to every one and maintain the prestige of the 
church. ’ 9 

Father Shairp made a slight movement of impatience. 
“A compromise with what?” he answered with a shrug. 
“With a tissue of guesswork without a single vestige of proof. 
It is not the church which rejects your foundationless theories. 
It is common sense — common logic. Why even your own 
ablest scientists like Virchow and Agassiz will have none of 
them.” Father Shairp was now smiling again. 

“Our lay teachers of science should have a voice in the 
councils of the church in matters scientific, should they not ? 9 7 
she again urged. 

“No doubt, no doubt,” he replied gaily. “Why not in¬ 
clude theology and Scripture in their curriculum. All this 
could, of course, be accomplished without any infringement 
on the Euntes docete omnes gentea 1 given to the Apostles. We 
are living in a transition age, and it would not be surprising 
to find the disciples teaching the teachers, the sheep leading 
the shepherds to inviting and tempting pastures.” 

“Well, if they would only leave science free, matters 
might come out all right; but this they will not do. Oh! it 
makes me tired beyond expression — this immobility of the 
Church of Rome. This conservatism is preposterous! ’ ’ 

“ Oh! I perceive it is the old question of Darwinism that 
is at issue!” 

“Why certainly. Darwinism and the higher criticism. 
You can not put the new wine of science into the old bottles 
of Judaism, as Professor Huxley used to say.” 

3- “Going, therefore, teach all nations.” 

[200] 



DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


^hat would you have the church do? Swallow Darwin 
whole ? ’ ’ 

Professor Comprise arranged — invented — discovered 
such a compromise; indeed it was a great invention and 
discovery at once; but do you believe it, poor, old, benighted, 
medieval, dreaming Rome would have nought of it. It is, alas, 
so provoking.” 

“What did the authorities at Rome tell him?” he in¬ 
quired, highly amused. 

“He must not even publish it or write about it. Just 
imagine. What stupidity! You would suppose they would be 
thankful for a way »out. ’ ’ 

“I suppose much depended on the way out that was 
offered. There is usually a right way and a wrong way.” 

“But in this case it should have been a question of any 
way that was feasible. And it is said that it was very plau¬ 
sible to say the least—at least to some.” 

“Possibly it was a surrender of the whole position. This 
would be like giving up the ship.” 

“But just look at the number of young and ardent 
intellects that do not care to be yoked with the superstitions 
of the middle ages or even the old beliefs unless they are 
made to harmonize with the latest results of modern thought. 
They believe that science has wholly discredited the old no¬ 
tions of the church, the bible, Christianity, and all that kind 
of thing. ” 

‘ ‘ Then why don’t they leave the church ? ’ ’ 

“My dear sir; how unsophisticated you are — with all 
your cleverness! Don’t you know there is a poetry and a 
majesty in the church which attracts them irresistibly, even 
though they have lost all faith in her? They would as soon 
think of giving up their ancestral castles as of leaving the 
church.” 

“But you say they don’t believe in the church.” 

“Most assuredly they don’t. And why should they? Is 

[201] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


not all the modern science and all modern scientific criticism 
arrayed against the church and her old fashioned notions?” 

‘ ‘ But if they do not believe in the church and its teachings 
the honest way for them is to abandon her. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Why should they abandon her ? Have they not as good 
a right to remain in it as the Bishops, Cardinals and priests? 
Why should they not have the privilege of modifying her 
teachings judiciously to suit the changed conditions of 
thought ? What are churches for anyway ? I have no patience 
with the old fogy, rigid, inflexible creeds ’ ’ — and she looked 
the very embodiment of distress. 

“Your position has certainly the merit of novelty at 
least, Lady Gushington.” 

“I am sure it has other merits, too. If the church would 
only listen to reason. If the authorities would listen occasion¬ 
ally to the people who know, so many would not be obliged to 
leave the church, nor so many who refuse to leave would not 
be forced to blush for her. ’ ’ 

“Do many blush for her?” he asked, beginning to feel a 
little bored. “I fancy not many practical Catholics.” 

“I for one do, and I flatter myself I am something of a 
practical Catholic. You could not draw me away with ropes 
from confession and communion weekly, or from the daily 
visit to the Blessed Sacrament. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But you are at variance with the church in your belief! ’ ’ 
“Of course” she lightly laughed. “I believe as I please 
and I act as I please. It pleases me to remain in the church 
and I remain. The practices are archaic, aesthetic. It gives 
one a standing to belong to the church so ancient and vener¬ 
able. I like the dignity of her ceremonies and of the entire 
Catholic worship. I love the liturgy of the church. I even 
love the Church in its preposterous conservatism. It is 
unique and soul-compelling. No one can drive me out of it. ’ ’ 
“But you are incurring the church’s censures, by such 
a faith combined with such a practice.” 

[202] 


DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


“A fig for your censures. I am a free Britain and I am 
going to select my own religion just as I select my country 
or my company. If Catholicity pleases me, why should I not 
adopt it in my own way? If I glory in the name of Britain 
why should I not also glory in the name of Catholic ?” 

“But would you dare to disobey the laws of Britain and 
still remain a British subject?” 

“There is precisely where we have the advantage of 
religion. Christianity has no dungeons or towers and it can 
not hang for treason. The days of the inquisition are passed, 
or if we have an inquisition its fangs are extracted. You see 
the church is at our mercy. ’ ’ And she laughed gaily as if she 
were arranging for a holiday. 

This is certainly a strange situation, he thought. What 
is the use of trying to reason with this madwoman? She is 
evidently bound to take advantage of the free and open door 
which the church flings wide open in her universal charity for 
the salvation of immortal souls. He shrugged his shoulders, 
and merely thought again. Thank Hod we have not many of 
this stamp. Yet she talks as if she were not alone in this 
ridiculous attitude. 

“But you are the only one who takes this absurd 
attitude. This anomalous stand is not certainly assumed by 
many. Has it ever occurred to you that standing alone you 
may be wrong?” 

“But I do not stand alone,” she replied with a ringing 
laugh. “How completely unsophisticated you are! Why, 
there are thousands who take the same stand as I do, precisely, 
— English Catholics, of course — yes and ever so many Amer¬ 
icans — and a good number of French Catholics — the intel¬ 
lectual ones of course. Most of the others are too narrow. 
But those like myself who are too much wedded to their 
Darwin and their Renan to abandon them, and who are at 
the same time btoo much wedded to the glorious, traditional 
and aesthetical features of the church can not break the ties. 

[203] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


What would you have them do? They are wedded to two 
incompatibles. What can they do but try as far as they can 
to unite them. They can not give up their Darwin or their 
Strauss and they can not give up their archaic and poetic 
church. What then is there for them to do but to retain 
both ? Oh! we intellectuals have our own trials. Nevertheless 
we have the satisfaction of being right. ’ ’ 

And she gave a little sigh of satisfaction after this long 
and rapidly uttered dissertation. 

Just then two ladies were sweeping past in all the dignity 
of their reception costumes, and as Lady Gushington 
raised her head and saw them she gave a start of unwelcome 
surprise and bit her lip until the blood almost came. At the 
same moment one of the ladies turned and caught sight of her 
ladyship. 

‘‘Why, Lady Gushington, I had not seen you, before, this 
evening. I am so delighted. It is quite an age since we met. ’ * 
And the lady in the flaming diamond crest and naked shoul¬ 
ders beamed with all elegance and grace on Lady Gushington 
and included Father Shairp in her glance and smile. 

“And who have you here?” she said a little ungrammat¬ 
ically and inelegantly, “Why, a Catholic priest, I declare, or 
am I mistaken? Nowadays you can not always distinguish 
between the Catholic priest and the Epistical minister (Epis¬ 
copal minister she meant.) Won’t you introduce me to this 
manifest clergyman. I warrant you he is some celebrity you 
have picked up.” 

It was manifestly the furthest thing from Madame 
Gushington’s thoughts to introduce the newcomer to Father 
Shairp, but now there was no avoiding it. 

“You are perfectly right, Mrs. Greenway. This is Father 
Shairp, one of the most intellectual priests I have ever met. 
If all Catholic priests were like him, our people — our in¬ 
tellectuals— would have to look to their laurels. Father 
Shairp, Mrs. Greenway.” 


[204] 


DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


“I wonder/’ thought Father Shairp, “if this is the 
sweeping, dashing away with all the intellectual ladies. Evi¬ 
dently here is a new specimen, and of the very loudest brand 
too.” 

He merely bowed, however, in response to the introduc¬ 
tion. 

“Oh I am ever so well acquainted with Catholic priests. 
I used to be a Catholic once myself,” volunteered Mrs. 
Greenway. “Yes we were all Catholic once; but that is some 
years ago. I was a Catholic when I first became Mr. Green- 
way’s financee.” (she meant fiancee.) 

‘ ‘ Indeed ? ’ ’ inquired Father Shairp his eye kindling with 
merriment. 

“Oh yes; we were married in the Catholic Church — 
married with a grand Requiem 1 mass too.” 

Father Shairp bit his lip until the blood almost started, 
to control the laughter that the statement provoked. 

“Yes indeed,” she rattled on never noticing the look of 
amusement on the faces of her hearers. “Father Rodman, 
my husband’s niece came all the way from Montreal to perform 
the ceremony.” 

‘ 1 How nice! ’ ’ was all that Father Shairp could venture to 
reply for fear of an explosion that would be embarrassing. 

“Yes. My husband is a great reader. He read Darwin’s 
Origin of Speeches all through, and as a result he drifted into 
irrationalism and is now a confirmed ag-know-stick. ”—with 
a marked accent on the “know.” 

“How did that come about?” Father Shairp trusted 
himself far enough to inquire. 

“Well, you see, we had been attending Dr. Edwards’ 
lectures at the Gym, and my husband became completely 
vaccinated by them. He thinks Dr. Edwards is fast becoming 
one of the great binaries. ” 

1 A mass offered only for the dead—the usual Funeral Mass. 

[205] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“And are you as fascinated with Dr. Edwards as your 
husband ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh! ever so much more so. Why I have been listening 
to Dr. Edwards for years. I was at Amherst when he gravi¬ 
tated. He delivered the mortuary oration on the occasion. 
I went there because a niece of mine was gravitated from the 
college at the same time. 

“Yes, very true, Mr. Edwards did deliver the valedictory 
that year. I was present. It was a very interesting dis¬ 
course. ’ 9 

“Quite true; quite true,” she conceded gracefully. “It 
was the contradictory oration Mr. Edwards delivered. It 
was beautiful. Every one declared it to be the most exhaust¬ 
ing discourse that had been delivered in the college for half 
a century.” 

“Mr. Edwards must have been greatly flattered by the 
compliment , 9 7 said Father Shairp with a twinkle. 

“Yes and that same year it was that Professor Edmunds 
delivered the tobaccolaureate, ” she volunteered, not deigning 
to notice his remark. 

Father Shairp could hardly restrain himself, but at that 
moment Mr. Greenway came up, and Mrs. Greenway made a 
profound courtesy to the two men and joined her husband. 
The grace of the bow was in marked contrast to the conversa¬ 
tion of the lady, and this taken in connection with the elegance 
and taste of her costume, led Father Shairp to remark to Dr. 
Pembroke who had just joined the group: 

“It is remarkable what strange birds you find in gilded 
cages and what strange notes they will utter. The plumage is 
never a guarantee of the note . 9 ’ 

‘ ‘ Is it ignorance or is it wilfulness that causes her to play 
such havoc with the Queen’s English?” 

“It is neither I fancy. She imagines she is the queen 
and treats her language as if it were the Irish nation. ’ ’ 

“Heavens!” exclaimed Father Shairp. “Supposing she 

[206] 


DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


should take a fancy to introduce reform speaking as we have 
reformed spelling.” 

“And why should not she, too, have the privilege of 
leaving her impress on the English language? She possesses 
the prime requisites; like Andrew Carnegie, she knows nothing 
about it and she has also the means to finance the movement . 9 y 

‘ ‘ That is one of the great evils of wealth — far greater in 
my opinion than any of those dangers which the socialist 
dreads. It is liable to vulgarize everything with which it 
comes in contact. It has always been my opinion that great 
wealth is the first step towards barbarism.” 

“I quite agree with you. Wealth vulgarizes all it touches. 
It looks upon money-getting as the talent of talents and re¬ 
gards the man who possesses money, a king. Art, literature, 
refinement — all must give way before it. It is the enemy 
of all the arts. ’ ’ 

When Mrs. Greenway left the group, they involuntarily 
followed her with their eyes. Her carriage was grace and 
elegance itself, and her whole exterior perfection of taste. 

‘ ‘ Mrs. Greenway is, I presume, one of your intellectuals, ’ ’ 
said Father Shairp not without a spice of mischief, as Lady 
Gushington returned after a brief conversation with Mr. 
Greenway. 

“ Oh! Father Shairp, you should be charitable and spare 
us your sarcasm.” 

“But you were boasting of your intellectuals who would 
renovate theology and religion generally, and, having seen 
Professor Comprise, I am of course anxious to see a second 
specimen of the new covenant with science. I am satisfied now 
that it is the intellectual world that disdains Catholicity. ’ ’ 

The mortification of Lady Gushington was evident 
and painful. She could lay little claim to intellectuality 
herself and her common sense was not of the best approved 
brand, as the reader has by this time discovered; but still 
there was somewhat of a comme il faut which made her 

[207] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


restrain herself when on the verge of becoming too ridiculous. 
Her preposterous notions of science and religion which she 
had assumed as a hobby—though, with her, a perfectly natural 
hobby—did not prevent her from seeing the absurdities in 
others and she felt really chagrined and deeply mortified, that 
at the very moment when she was boasting of the intellectuality 
of those who would scientifically regenerate Catholicity, this 
witless daughter of wealth should appear on the scene. For 
she had just enough discernment to perceive that Father 
Shairp stood intellectually head and shoulders above all the 
men of science with whom she had yet come in contact. But 
then Father Shairp was only one and the intellectual world 
of science was legion, even if its intellectuality was nine-tenths 
watered stock. And with Lady Gushington numbers counted. 
She therefore returned to the attack. 

“Only for the cardinals and the other church authorities 
all would be well. The church is elastic and expansive enough 

— if it were not for the authorities. It is they who stand in 
the way. Presently we shall have a repetition of the Galileo 
fiasco.” 

“ Sempre Galileo,” he said in a deep guttural, “Surely if 
the church has been guilty of any fault in the case of Signor 
Galileo she has amply atoned for it. Every time science sees 
fit to go into hysterics, it is the same old cry, 1 Galileo!’ Ad¬ 
mitting that the church may have been guilty of making a 
mistake in his case (which is not the case by any means) it 
is a thousand pities that in the course of her two thousand 
years of history she has not succeeded in making at least one 
other. It would be such a relief to the world at large. This 
Galileo matter is beginning to be monotonous. Its repetition 
is beginning to wear upon the nerves, like one rasping tune 
on a fiddle. Now if there were only even one change of melody 

— some Arkansas Traveler to suggest the remainder — what 
a relief it would be. Don’t you think if the world examined 
closely enough and scrutinized her history she might succeed 


DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


in discovering another. It would be such a boon to humanity 
to have a change. ’ ’ 

His imperturbable manner was tantalizing and yet attrac¬ 
tive. She longed to get at the secret of his power and ease, 
and grasp of intellect. And she was determined to say ugly 
things just to provoke him into a temper or a betrayal of some 
quality which she could call a weakness. Was this man really 
superior to science? Was he even more than human? She 
asked herself. 

“It is the same with the entire clerical body. The priests 
are a clog on progress, a drag on the wheels of advancement 
and enlightenment,” she piped somewhat peevishly. 

“We admit it madame. We admit it freely and frankly.” 

‘ 4 But it is a shame — the shame and the reproach of the 
church. Why try to stop the world from moving?” she cried 
almost fiercely. 

* ‘ Why madame, it is our duty;’ ’ and not a single muscle 
of his face moved. 

“Duty! Duty! You mock me, Father Shairp. It is 
bad enough to have senseless men admit they are a clog on 
the wheels of progress, but to hear them claim that to be a 
clog is a duty! Why this is preposterous!” And she was 
now thoroughly exasperated. She suspected he was making 
game of her. 

“Nevertheless it is our legitimate duty and task to hold 
the headlong world in check, to do what in us lies to stop its 
wild vagaries. The advance of the world is wrong — mad 
— infatuated. It is the advance of a blind team of plunging 
animals towards a precipice. The world is rushing madly 
over the road which it calls progress to its own destruction — 
materially, morally, socially, intellectually; and it is not only 
our business — it is the business of all good men to put forth 
all their energies to prevent it from madly rushing to its 
ruin.” 

She started. She was not looking for this sudden turn. 

[209] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


It was not precisely what she expected. And besides her 
husband’s name had been connected with a grinding monopoly 
which had been investigated by a committee with fraud 
proven. 

“I did not know that Catholic priests knew so much. 
You are very clever, Father Shairp, very clever indeed.” 

‘ ‘ The Catholic priests would feel flattered — highly, very 
highly, if they knew your exalted opinion of their attain¬ 
ments. ’ ’ 

“Oh I did not mean in that way. I knew they knew a 
great deal about theology and — and mass and confession 
and indulgences and such things — and politics” — she added 
after a little pause; “but I did not think they knew anything 
about science or modern thought. But all the same,” she 
added, probably because she was a woman, “All the same I 
like to be in the swim. I like to go with the tide, with the 
majority, with the intellectual world. It would add so much 
to the church’s prestige if she too would permit herself to be 
carried along on the crest of the wave. ’ ’ 

“Add to the church’s prestige to be borne along on the 
crest of error! To ally herself with falsehood! To compro¬ 
mise the truth deposited into her keeping! To abdicate her 
heaven-given position as teacher of the nations! To adopt 
beforehand theories which are in all probability utterly false 
and at best are but a compromise with another hypothesis 
which is but a theory, and one which is likely to prove some 
day to be a mistaken one ! ’ ’ 

“But it happens to be the popular one just now and it 
is a thousand pities the church will not compromise with it. 
I assure you I know plenty of good Catholics who adopt these 
views and they are none the worse for it. What a pity the 
clergy will not listen to the laity occasionally. ’ ’ 

And she heaved a sigh of disappointment. He made no 
reply. 

“Oh how glorious if we did not have to give up the 

[210] 


DISCUSSION WITH VARIETIES 


world to serve God! I do not think it is exactly necessary to 
give up God to serve the world.” 

“And yet there was one who said, ‘You can not serve 
two masters. You can not serve God and mammon.’ 99 

Lady Gushington hailed Rose Ramsay who was just pass¬ 
ing in the company of two other ladies and after the long siege 
to which she had so strenuously subjected him, abruptly left 
Father Shairp—just as abruptly as she had hailed him — and 
rushed to Rose, leaving Father Shairp and Dr. Pembroke 
standing in the embrasure. 


0 


I 


[211] 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Keeping Posted 

“T MUST not finish,’’ wrote Dr. Pembroke, in one of his 
I letters to George, “without telling you that Father 
Shairp is the lion of the hour at Toneton. His ‘fort- 
nightlies’ before the Catholic club of the University have be¬ 
come the feature of the town. At first they were attended by 
only the Catholic students, then by almost the entire student 
body, and now the professor who happens to miss an evening 
regards himself unfortunate. The subjects of his ‘talks’ are 
either religious or scientific, or religio-scientific — usually 
the latter. Last Tuesday’s broke all records. The subject 
was Morality without Religion, and at its close the audience 
not only applauded but broke into cheers. The non-Catholic 
student body occupying the gallery were so carried away by 
the enthusiasm of the occasion that they broke out into their 
college yell and the hall resounded with 

‘ Toneton! Toneton! rah, rah, rah; 

Toneton! Boo-ri-e-boo-la-gah! 

Uptown Toneton! Downtown Toneton! 

All-around Toneton! rah, rah, rah!’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ What’s the matter with Father Shairp ? ’ sang out the 
captain of the rowing club, and instantly, ‘He’s all right!’ 
burst from seven hundred student throats, and again thrice 
the college yell with the second and last lines changed: 

‘Toneton! Toneton! rah, rah, rah! 

Toneton! Father Ramsay! Ah! 

Uptown Toneton! Downtown Toneton! 

Toneton! Father Shairp ! rah, rah, rah!’ 

[212] 


KEEPING POSTED 


A strange conclusion to so solemn a subject! you will 
say. Truly, so. And I mention it to show the wonderful 
power of Father Shairp in treating his subjects — even the 
driest, most dogmatic, or philosophical; and also to show you 
the general estimate of the man here. ’ ’ 

And it was true. In spite of the University, Father 
Shairp was the intellectual king of Toneton. At her “Mon¬ 
days” Lady Gushington always accorded him the place of 
honor, notwithstanding the fact that he was forever rallying 
her on her ‘intellectuality’ and had little mercy on her fads 
and fancies. Indeed she voted her “Mondays” total failures 
unless he was numbered amongst the guests. 

George was delighted to learn such news of Father 
Shairp to whom he had become deeply attached and whose 
gifts he had greatly admired, regretting only that he was not 
near enough for closer companionship. 

But Dr. Pembroke’s letters sometimes conveyed other news 
which was not relished quite as keenly by George, and which 
frequently set his heart a-flutter. The doctor seldom failed to 
mention Rose and her work in his brief letters to George, 
knowing how tender were his feelings on the subject. He 
always alluded pleasantly in a few words to her care of Mrs. 
Edwards. One letter, however, gave more extended notice, 
and was dwelt upon with real pleasure by the doctor, because 
he was really delighted that Rose had some slight diversion 
from the dull monotony of the sick room. 

“Rose,” he wrote, “is having some excellent exercise in 
the open air; and I am heartily glad of it, for I have been 
fearing she would begin to droop under her close confinement. 
Madame Fortune, of whom perhaps you may have heard — 
she is the foundress of a hospital for some incurable disease, 
leprosy or cancer, I do not know which — has been staying 
for a few days with Lady Gushington, and has taken quite a 
fancy to Rose (do you blame her?) and they spend many 
hours together.” 


[213] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


George’s heart beat a tattoo against his vest when he read 
this. It was quite evident that Rose had dropped no hint of 
her intentions to anyone but himself and that Dr. Pembroke 
did not even surmise her future. Thus the news which 
is intended to give the greatest pleasure sometimes inflicts the 
greatest pain. 

But it was a fact. There had been long walks and many 
talks and even exchange of confidences between Rose and 
Madame Fortune. They were by no means strangers to each 
other. Indeed it was Rose who had first introduced Madame 
Fortune to Lady Gushington. It occurred at the reception 
for the new Hospital, mentioned in the last chapter, and 
came about in this way. 


[ 2I 4] 




CHAPTER XXIV 


Extremes Meet 

OSE, my sweet girl,” said Lady Gushington, when she 
It) first caught sight of her, “I have been straining my 
eyes all the evening to catch a glimpse of yon. Have 
you just arrived ? And who is this lady, dressed so demurely 
for a reception ? 7 7 This last inquiry she made quietly to Rose 
aside — in a very different manner from that in which she 
performed a like part to Father Shairp, probably because the 
object of the present inquiry was a woman. 

“I have but just arrived,” answered Rose quietly. “In¬ 
deed I should not have been here at all, were it not that it is 
Lady Gushington 7 s reception day. Mrs. Edwards is so low 
and feeble that it seemed heartless to leave her even to 
worship at the shrine of Charity.” 

“And who is your strange companion ?’ 7 she again in¬ 
quired, evidently with the usual feminine curiosity, or with 
the feeling that she wanted to know all about this strangely- 
garbed woman. 

And in truth the appearance at what had been a society 
gathering, amid trailing costumes and bodices that did not 
trail at all, at least not very far upwards above the waist, and 
the glare and glitter of a leading social event was, it must be 
confessed, a little bit odd. 

She was dressed in sombre black, which was relieved by 
a white neck cloth with bow in front, which served only to 
emphasize the awful blackness of the black. The cuffs, too, 
were of immaculate stiffness as well as whiteness. The stiff¬ 
ness and primness of her costume, while suggestive of a 

[ 2I 5] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


widow’s w r eeds, possessed, however, none of the eloquence of 
grief, or the luxury of woe usually envolumed in dressgoods. 
The proclamatory features of the widow’s garb were con¬ 
spicuously absent. There was not an eloquent fold, nor 
sentimental pleat, nor tuck that told of the brokenheartedness 
of the wearer; nor any of all those wonderful contrivances 
that so eloquently proclaim that hearts are past mending, or 
that, on the other hand, in the language of song, the wearers 
are “not quite brokenhearted.” Neither was the crowning 
piece of dressgoods pantomine — the irresistible piece that 
gives the finishing touch to it all, the veil of endless length, 
like a preacher’s discourse, visible. In fact it was not there 
at all. The prim bonnet fitted down on the temples without 
any flaunting of ribbons, save what was necessary, and the 
stiff cape without an ell too much, and yet somehow so fitting 
and so becoming to the wearer—as well as the skirt—seemed to 
suggest that the designer had in mind to see precisely in how 
little of female-toggery-fabric a woman could really be dressed 
without a single inch of drygoods that was superfluous, or 
the number of yards square that might cover the human 
woman figure sufficiently and be at once graceful and sanitary, 
becoming and modest. The whole was suggestive of the 
nurse’s prim garments in which there is never a single fold 
too much, to be exposed to the world of microbes, in which 
their active agents might hold convention and establish mi¬ 
crobe kingdoms and empires outnumbering in inhabitants 
the Chinese Empire. There appeared to be an attempt on 
the part of the designer to limit to the narrowest possible 
boundaries the extent of territory upon which they might 
build and establish colonies. And it appeared that this was 
really the explanation of both dress and woman. For to the 
inquiry of Lady Gushington Rose quietly gave a brief intro¬ 
duction. 

“Lady Gushington, Madame Fortune,” was the brief 
ceremony. 


[216] 


EXTREMES MEET 


“This is an unexpected pleasure,” gushed Lady Gush- 
ington, “and as much desired as unexpected.” 

“You are very kind,” was the quiet reply, ‘‘I am glad to 
meet you. Rose — Miss Ramsay — ” she corrected instantly, 
“has spoken so often about you.” 

She had not said that Rose had spoken in highest com¬ 
pliments of her; but Lady Gushington took it for granted that 
she had and rattled on: 

“Oh! Rose (she took no pains to correct) is always 
so kind to her friends. She is always saying sweet things of 
them. But tell me all about your work. I have heard and 
read so much about it. What a clever woman you are and 
how courageous! ’ ’ 

Madame Fortune made a deprecating gesture. 

“No, no, do not try to stop me. I have heard of the 
wonderful work you are doing for humanity, and I want to 
know all about it. ’ ’ 

Madam Fortune did not make reply; she looked at Rose. 

“But how can you bring yourself to live in such squalor 
and misery? I could never have the courage requisite for 
slumming — for is it not a kind of slumming?” she inquired 
half apologetically. 

It was well that Madam Fortune had heard of Lady 
Gushington and had been made acquainted beforehand with 
the peculiarities of her Ladyship; otherwise she would have 
been sorely puzzled at the strange views taken of her volun¬ 
tarily accepted life among the poor and afflicted. 

“ I do not call it slumming , 9 9 she laughed goodnaturedly; 
and her laugh was singularly musical, and the eye dwelt in all 
its gray calmness — soft and penetrating, however — in a sort 
of motherly indulgent way on the smug countenance and 
features of Lady Gushington. 

“But you come in contact with Italians and Jews and 
Irish and Greeks and Arabians and even Poles, Swedes and 

[ 2I 7] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Norwegians. I could never have the courage to do it. How 
very — very exceedingly — brave you are ! ’ ’ 

“They are human beings like ourselves, however, with 
the same aches and pains, the same ailments and diseases, the 
same hearts to suffer and rejoice. They are our fellow-beings, 
our brothers and sisters; why should you fear them ? ’ ’ 

Lady Gushington gave a slight shrug of repugnance. 

‘ ‘ I assure you they are very gentle- and very grateful for 
what is done for them; and their gratitude — if there were 
no other reward — is more than recompense for any little dis¬ 
advantage or repugnance there may happen to be.” 

“You are not preaching this doctrine to Rose, I hope. 
You know she is one of the kind that is touched immediately 
by such things and would be kindled into enthusiasm in a 
moment. No, no; you must not try to steal Rose from us; ” 
and she looked suspiciously from one to the other. 

‘ ‘ One thing is certain, ’ ’ replied Madam Fortune gravely: 
“Rose could hardly devote herself to a work that would bring 
her more compensations. We have much in our work at which 
the human in us rebels from time to time, I will admit; but 
when we have conquered ourselves and have done the work, 
there is no pleasure like the gratitude which we receive as a 
reward. ’ ’ 

“But you do not always receive gratitude? You surely 
must meet occasionally a savage or a brute who can not appre¬ 
ciate what is done for him? These people have such low 
instincts and are so coarse, and barbarous, and savage.” 

“There is, of course, an occasional growl. But what 
would you expect from persons who are suffering extreme 
agony. It is all the more happiness to relieve them. ’’ 

“Do not be so cruel, however, as to take Rose away from 
us. We need her quite as much as your wretches.” 

She looked at Rose narrowly and inquisitively. 

“Don’t you think I might do far worse than join Madame 

[218] 


EXTREMES MEET 


Fortune, Lady Gushington, I always did like nursing the 
sick.” 

1 1 But cancer, ’’ she said — almost shrieked — ‘ ‘ cancer — 
of all things; think of the revoltingness, of the scoria, of the 
outrage to every sense. It is worse than leprosy. No, no, 
you can never bury your charms in a charnel house. Better 
be a sister of charity. Go enter a convent and bury yourself 
and your attractions from the eyes of the world which is not 
worthy to look upon so beautiful a flower; but do not — do 
not — you must not — bury them in a living grave with 
stench, effluvia, rottenness, corruption and filth — all com¬ 
ponent parts of this disease.” 

‘ ‘ But there is — there must be a special pleasure in min¬ 
istering to the wants of the wretched and alleviating their 
sufferings. And the greater the misery the greater the reward, 
the satisfaction of having soothed the pains,” said Rose, 
whether banteringly or earnestly Lady Gushington was at a 
loss to determine. 

‘ 1 Oh; you heroic souls with the spirit of martyrs in your 
hearts, and the blood of martyrs in your veins! I can not 
understand you at all. I like my own comfort and my own 
ease, and I am going to have it at any cost. I dare say I am 
thoroughly selfish and thoroughly wicked; but I like myself 
best of all. I am no hypocrite in the matter. I acknowledge 
it freely. ’ 9 

And she was thoroughly selfish as she had said. Her heart 
was not exactly hard but her mind was set on getting the 
best of the good things of life if it was at all possible. She 
would not steal openly, nor even covertly — if she could have 
these things without. But she had a peculiar faculty, like a 
good many other good people in the world, of making herself 
believe that whatever she did was right and could not be 
wrong, no matter how wicked. She never swallowed a bitter 
pill without previously sugar-coating it. This was one of her 
principles. 


[2ig] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Here was worldliness face to face with religion — sel¬ 
fishness face to face with self-sacrifice; the latter ready to 
immolate itself a thousand times a day for the benefit of 
humanity; the former ready to step in and prevent this self- 
immolation, and this too for its own selfish purposes. The 
wants of humanity must not interfere with the devotion to 
self; self must not be denied a single pleasure even to relieve 
the sufferings of humanity. And what was more: the one was 
the offspring of science — its own natural born child; the 
other the offspring of religion — its own true child. But 
how strangely whimsical is nature! Partly because she was 
a woman of excellent heart at bottom; partly because she 
wished to have celebrities about her; and partly because she 
was fascinated by the charm of the wonderful little woman 
in the severely plain garb, Lady Gushington then and there 
mentally concluded to include Madame Fortune in the circle 
of her patronage. Nay more, she soon learned to cultivate 
a true affection for Madame Fortune which soon ripened into 
a warm friendship, and from time to time she insisted that 
Madame Fortune take a brief outing at her own home in 
Toneton, while she at the same time contributed generously 
to the institution which Madame Fortune had founded. 

The news of Madame Fortune’s presence at Toneton and 
especially of her intimacy with Rose created a real alarm in 
George’s breast. Madame Fortune and her colleagues took 
no religious vows, it was true, but George knew enough of 
their devotion to their humanitarian work to realize that if 
Rose should immure herself within the walls of a Cistercian 
convent, she would not be more hopelessly lost to him than if 
she should devote herself to the care of the incurable Lazarites 
which Madame Fortune had begun. 

Perhaps this was the most critical period in George’s 
whole career. With his faith in his scientific idols shaken to 
its very centre and with the fear confronting him that Rose 
might at any moment take a step which would be final and 

[220] 


EXTREMES MEET 


irrevocable, the conflict in his mind was fearful. “Why not 
break at once with the whole scientific guessing match which 
had proved so delusive and was likely to prove also disas¬ 
trous V ’ he more than once asked himself. 


y 


[221] 


CHAPTER XXV 


En Bloc 

I T AFTERWARDS struck George as a little singular that 
at this juncture he did not abandon his work altogether. 
Indeed the shock which followed the discovery of the 
real state of affairs in connection with “Professor Huxley’s 
Hippodrome”—as it now began to be styled by George’s 
friends — to say nothing whatever about his fears concerning 
Rose — was great enough to drive him from the ranks of 
science forever. There were, however, other influences and 
other considerations which still held him in his false position. 
They were not of themselves very powerful, it is true; but like 
the guy ropes which keep a tottering turret in its position — 
somewhat unsafely indeed, but still which prevent its total 
collapse — they served to keep George from breaking at once 
and forever with the position which he found untenable. 

The first of these agencies was George’s own judgment. 
Although he had rushed headlong into infidelity at almost the 
first sound of alarm he hesitated about the wisdom of retracing 
his step. He had been rash and impetuous in his break with 
Christianity; nay he had been petulant in his manner of 
dealing with it; now, however, he must be sure of his ground 
and there must be no danger of another false move. Before 
all things he detested vacillation; and now, he determined to 
“stick to the ship,” as he termed it, until it was proved to be 
unseaworthy. Then too, on more mature reflection, he rea- 
ized — and this had a powerful, calming influence on him — 
he realized that Rose would not — could not — take any final 
step while Mrs. Edwards lived. 

[222] 


EN BLOC 


There were still other agencies also. There was Dr. Hunter, 
good man, who still pursued George w T ith unrelenting ven¬ 
geance. Yes; vengeance was the word! The attitude of the 
Doctor since his rescue by George from drowning was most 
extraordinary. His malignity was more unsleeping and re¬ 
lentless than ever. Had George attempted his life instead of 
saving it, his hatred could not be more bitter. He could not 
bear to hear the mention of his name, although he strove to 
conceal his hostility. His conduct, however, was so unnatural 
that it began to be noticeable to everyone. His hatred of 
George was fast assuming the form of dementia. At heart he 
felt the baseness of his conduct towards his friend and the 
son of his best benefactor, but he fatuously seemed to think 
that by continuing his injustice he could succeed in justifying 
his former injury. Perhaps the true secret of his conduct 
lay not so much in his malice of heart as in the fact that he 
did not wish to admit to his own heart that he had wronged 
George; and he wished to keep up his anger against him since 
it proved so convenient a smoke screen to cloud his own vision. 
However that may be, his hatred of George carried him so far 
that since he could not injure George otherwise he began to 
disparage his work on the history, and to belittle the value 
and importance of the work itself. Disparaging speeches 
began to take the place of former eulogium and the highsound- 
ing terms about the glory which the university was going to 
derive from its publication. He even began to do all in his 
power secretly and covertly to prevent its publication. And 
many and laughable were the attempts which he made to 
overthrow or defeat the project, always, however, under the 
impression that he was so effectually concealing his tracks that 
suspicion could never touch him. It was amusing to see the 
contrivances to which he resorted and the schemes and plots 
which he concocted in order to irretrievably ruin George, and 
it was a psychological study to unravel the mental twists and 

[223] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


convolutions by which he followed so persistently with his 
spite, one who had never injured him. 

He never for a moment suspected that George had any 
misgivings; but there was not a single one of his vicious move¬ 
ments that was not fully known to George. It was a most 
remarkable psychological phenomenon, that, first, the wrong 
done to George; and next, the unequaled act of kindness on 
the part of George in saving his life, should have left nothing 
in the mind of Dr. Hunter but implacable revenge. 

Meanwhile the great work itself to which George had 
consecrated his talents and his energies was moving along as 
smoothly and rapidly as so great an undertaking permitted. 
From time to time notices in the newspapers and magazines 
made announcement of its near approach. The co-laborers 
were working faithfully now, — at least as far as George 
could see, but he was forced to acknowledge to himself that 
this was not very far, and that, after all, as far as he was 
concerned, he was almost wholly at the mercy of his assistants. 
The dismissal -of Pixley was not without its effect upon the 
others, and George hoped — he wished — he felt — that truth 
and accuracy would be strictly adhered to. He had a general 
acquaintance with all the subjects treated; but he could not 
possibly be a specialist in all of them or even in most of 
them; and so while he was a grand editor-in-chief, the 
responsibility must in the last analysis rest upon his assis¬ 
tants in their different departments. 

Nevertheless the work could not be without its fascina¬ 
tion to a mind like George’s. The scientific glamour hung 
around it still. The eclat attached to a work of this nature, 
the association with great names in science, the real advance 
of physical science especially in experimental chemistry, the 
acquaintance with molecules and matter in its constitution, 
the development of cells in biology; and the history of it all 
and its various departments could not fail to possess an 
attraction for a lover of science. Then the electrons and the 


[224] 


EN BLOC 


vast fields of speculation opened up by the very mention of 
them, the germs and bacteriological discoveries of Pasteur, 
his followers and imitators, the serums and their properties 
and preparation, together with the theories involved, were all 
of absorbing interest. Astronomy he left wholly to specialists 
in this line, regretting only the insanity that still clung to 
the study of Mars and its canals, (the manner in which the 
“canal” theory arose from the nomenclature of Schiaparelli, 
giving rise to theories and speculations which the author of 
the name had never intended, had long since previously 
disgusted him) showing clearly, as it did, that even in astron¬ 
omy, vague speculation and even positive assertion and dog¬ 
matism rested on the flimsiest foundations. 

When George recovered from the shock which resulted 
from his last interview with Dr. Jones, he tried first of all to 
get his exact bearings in the realm of science. He seemed to 
be amid the shifting sands of the desert or on the billowy 
ocean and he wished to take his soundings. Or perhaps to 
transfer the metaphor to the region of commerce he tried to 
take inventory of recent events and strike off a balance sheet 
that would show him exactly the true value of his scientifico- 
intellectual wealth. 

“But, after all,” he argued with himself, “so far, Dar¬ 
win is not really involved.” 

When he began to get his bearings and review the recent 
imbroglios calmly, he asked himself: 

“What real harm has been done to the Darwinian theory 
when all is said ? The Stonefelt blunder was but the work of 
hotheaded enthusiasts. It left Darwin untouched.” 

He did not, however, try to blink the fact that they were 
among the leading scientific men of the age, who had taken so 
prominent a part in the fiasco and that they were ready to 
browbeat the small band of conservatives. His confidence in 
scientific men and their judgments was completely shaken; 
but as yet he saw no reason — from the Stonefelt incident — 

[ 225 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 

why he should impeach the judgment of Darwin — only — 
only — only — that it was one more instance where the hope 
of proof of the doctrine had failed! But the fact was that 
Darwin suffered more in his esteem from the terrible on¬ 
slaughts of Father Shairp and Dr. Jones and the quiet but 
condemnatory reasoning of Father Ramsay than from the 
Stonefelt episode. 

The association of Professor Huxley’s name with that of 
Professor Marsh in the “hippodrome” affair damaged Huxley 
seriously in his estimation, however. It was true nothing 
could be made out of it. There was no direct proof of collusion 
on the part of Huxley; but, somehow, as he said, “the whole 
affair left a very bad taste in the mouth.” Huxley had been 
the friend of Marsh. And then that blessed prophecy! The 
whole transaction looked a little shady. It was hazy, to 
say the least. Notwithstanding all his attempts to reason the 
matter out wfith himself he could never succeed in lifting, 
satisfactorily, the cloud from the memory of his idol. “Per¬ 
haps there had never been a prophecy at all in the matter,” 
he argued with himself; and he felt compelled to let the 
matter rest. On summing up matters he found — he told 
himself — “there had been nothing so far to impeach the 
soundness of Darwin’s judgment — no, not even of Huxley’s. 
In Huxley’s case it was not judgment; it was something else 
that was in question.” But there was no blinking the absurd¬ 
ity of the reason put forward for the modification of the toes. 

There was left to him then, he assured himself, an unim¬ 
paired faith in Darwin and a smirched faith in Huxley. 
“But” he thought, “was not this after all taking science on 
faith—on authority—not on evidence or demonstration; and 
what a travesty all this was on the sound name of science!” 
And he shrank from the consideration. He did not relish 
the idea of taking his scientific doctrine on the very grounds 
on which he had rejected religion. His faith in Darwin still 
remained unshaken. There was no sufficient cause yet to reject 

[226] 


EN BLOC 


his judgment in scientific matters. This was not much it 
was true and he would prefer to have it otherwise. Perhaps 
however, what gave him the sharpest pang was, the reason— 
the flimsy, shallow reason — given by Huxley — and it was 
Huxley’s own, too — for the development of the toes of the 
horse into a hoof, or a great toe, as science pompously styled 
it, which could impose on no one. 


/ 



[227] 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Islands, Reefs, Shoals 

I T WAS with these thoughts in mind that George again 
dropped in on Dr. Jones. Indeed this was getting to be 
something of a habit with him lately. The Doctor had 
formerly been a professor at the university and a teacher of 
high repute. Suddenly, however, to the surprise of everyone, 
he laid aside his professor’s cap and gown, that is metaphori¬ 
cally, for the professors did not indulge in university milli¬ 
nery, and the university lost its most popular teacher. This 
was years ago. The chair of cosmology became vacant and 
Dr. Jones settled down to what the university would call a 
humdrum life in a medical office. But his life had been any¬ 
thing but humdrum. He had long since grown aweary 
of cosmological speculations, their unsatisfactoriness, their 
vagueness, their indefiniteness — where one might speculate 
forever and where one speculation was just as good as another. 
None of them could be proven. 

He had become an ardent follower of Pasteur. He had 
seen how much one man could accomplish for humanity in the 
field of practical science. “What folty,’’ he thought, “in 
these vain speculations that lead nowhither!” And he re¬ 
solved to be of some use to his fellow men. Accordingly he 
at once devoted himself to special work, dropped all cosmologi¬ 
cal problems, and devoted himself exclusively to discovering 
the serums for contagious diseases. So successful was he that 
in a short time he had prepared a most successful remedy for 
diphtheria and was a co-discoverer of the now famous anti¬ 
toxin. Now he was steadily working on a serum for tubercu- 

[228] 


ISLANDS, REEFS, SHOALS 

I 

losis and occasionally, because requested by some friends, on 
a serum for cancer. 

“How goes the famous work?” inquired the Doctor as 
soon as George made his appearance. 

“You mean the history, I suppose,” replied George. 

“What else should I mean? When shall we have the first 
volume ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, bother!’’ was George’s answer. 

Suddenly, however, he turned — he was not yet seated — 
and looking the Doctor squarely in the eyes, he asked: 

‘ ‘ Say, Doctor Jones; why did you give up your chair of 
cosmology in the university?” 

“I will tell you candidly, George, since you ask me. I 
left it because I concluded that a man’s business in life should 
be something else besides guessing. Life is something more 
than a mere guessing-school. A man should be useful to his 
fellowmen.” 

11 But the extension of knowledge is not guessing. And it 
is useful to our fellowmen.” 

“But the speculative sciences are not an extension of 
knowledge. There all is guesswork. From the nature of the 
case there can be no certainty. You can never know whether 
you are teaching truth or falsehood. What appears to be 
truth to-day — and you are ready to swear it is truth — may 
to-morrow be absurd in the light of a new discovery.” 

George became silent, serious, thoughtful. 

“You are right,” he said at last. “It is only the applied 
sciences that are of any real value. Why did you not tell 
me this before?” 

“Because you never asked me.” 

“But why did you not advise me to follow the practical 
sciences ? ’ ’ 

“Whe-e-e-e-o!” whistled the Doctor in his cheery way. 
“Because I knew better;” he laughed rather than said. 

“What do you mean?” 


[22 9] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“I mean that when I see a young fiery thoroughbred 
with his head in the air and the bit between his teeth, rushing 
like mad through space, I am not the man to play the fool by 
trying to rush out and stop the runaway. ’ ’ 

George laughed. 

“Never undertake to remonstrate with a woman or to 
give advice to a young man on fire with an idea. Both must 
see their folly out,” said the Doctor placing both his hands 
on George’s shoulders. 

“I believe you are right. Nothing could have possibly 
dampened my ardor for speculative science — nothing but 
bitter experience. ’ ’ And George fixed his eyes steadily on the 
floor. 

“You do not mean to say you have been cured of it so 
early?” queried the Doctor in some surprise. 

“Nothing now binds me to it but my confidence, my 
faith in the soundness of Darwin’s judgment — and — and 
— my faith — in Huxley’s, ’ ’ he added in a manner that was 
the reverse of zestful. 

“Hush!” said the Doctor raising his hands in mock 
alarm. “Do not let the theologians hear you speak of faith 
in matters of science.” 

George smiled in a sickly sort of way. “But unfor¬ 
tunately it is so,” he said with a little bitterness in his tone. 

“Then you take your science on authority, not on dem¬ 
onstration or evidence?” 

“A man must take what he can get.” He tried to be 
jocular; but he only smiled ruefully. 

“But I understand that you were abusing Christians 
only a little while since for this very thing. ’ ’ 

“I never dreamt that it could come to this in science; 
but we live and learn. Now I perceive that you were right 
in abandoning your chair of speculative science and adopting 
practical science instead.” 

The Doctor looked out the window but made no reply. 

[230] 


ISLANDS, REEFS, SHOALS 


“Nevertheless,” George added, meditatively, “I have 
great faith still in Darwin’s judgment.” 

Notwithstanding the fact that for thirty-five years he 
had misled the world on the subject of coral reefs!” 

Coral reefs! ’ ’ gasped George. 

“Yes, coral reefs. You see evolution is not the only 
subject on which Darwin has misled and mistaught the 
world. ’ ’ 

“Was his theory accepted by scientific men?” inquired 
George, with bated breath. 

“For nearly half a century it held its place as one of 
the greatest triumphs of scientific reasoning and research. 
His admirers declared that if he had done nothing else than 
render his solution of the great problem of coral reefs, this 
alone would suffice to place him on the unsubmergeable peaks 
of science crowned with an immortal name. ’ ’ 

“What was Darwin’s theory?” 

“It really seems incredible that so ardent a disciple of 
Darwin should be ignorant on this point. Nevertheless I will 
instruct you. You know the theory that long prevailed in the 
scientific world on this subject was that the coral islands were 
the craters of extinct volcanoes. The atoll islands were held 
to be this exactly at least. But Darwin, in his own convincing 
way, swept this theory from the face of the earth; and then 
he began to build up a theory of his own, a theory which — 
unlike his later great theory — was instantly received with a 
storm of applause, the theory of subsidence! As one writer 
says: ‘The theory of the young naturalist was hailed with 
admiration and delight.’ It passed into all popular treatises 
on the subject. You have seen it there, (George nodded 
assent,) but probably did not know it was Darwin’s. How 
magnificent was the subject! How magnificent the general¬ 
ization! How beautifully it accounted for all the facts! 
How wonderful it all was! Its wonderful simplicity! Its 
lofty grandeur! The mighty sweep of the genius that 

[231] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


conceived it! The wonderful fitness with which it adapted 
itself to the whole! Who else could have thought of it? 
What other genius could have reasoned it out so cogently, 
so conclusively, so mind-compelling?” 

“And Darwin was a genius,” fervently interjected 
George. 

“Yes. He certainly had a decided genius for proofless 
theories,” the doctor added. 

“There is one writer,” continued the doctor, “who deals 
so beautifully with the whole subject that I shall read a 
passage from him,” and he reached for a volume that lay 
within easy reach on a revolving book stand. He read: 

“So Darwin, one day standing on a mountain from 
which he commanded a wide space of sea, looked down upon 
the atoll with its glorious ring of walled-in water, calm, green, 
and gleaming in the middle of the ocean depths of blue. Did 
it not look as though there had once been an isle in the middle ? 
Did it not look as if the coral ring had been built up upon 
the rocky foundation of its former shores? Did it not look 
as if somehow, this island had been removed, and the encir¬ 
cling ring left alone ? Somehow! But this could not satisfy 
Darwin. How could such an island be removed? Its once 
fringing and encircling reef would have protected it from 
the devouring sea. Did it not look as if it had simply sunk ? 
— Subsidence! — Was not this the whole secret? The idea 
took firm hold in his mind. The more he thought of it the 
more closely did it fit, like evolution, into all the facts. Yes, 
it was subsidence and nothing else! ’ ’ George was breathless 
attention. 

“Was not this a noble conception?” said the doctor, 
closing the book but keeping his finger at the place. “Surely 
here was a grand scheme of things. Nature, detected by a 
sharp eye and sharper intellect at her secret work of building 
up the universe. One more of her secrets rifled from her 

[232] 


ISLANDS, REEFS, SHOALS 


jealous bos-om. You see Darwin, too, like ‘brave Cortez and 
his men, from a peak in Darien, stared at the Pacific’.” 

George’s confidence in Darwin rose higher than ever. 

“Did Darwin himself thus regard it?” inquired George. 

“None more so than he. Listen to his own words,” and 
he opened his book again and read: ‘From the fact of the 
reef-building corals not living at great depths, it is absolutely 
certain’ (mark the absolutely certain) ‘that throughout these 
vast areas, wherever there is now an atoll, a foundation must 
have originally existed within a depth of from twenty to 
thirty fathoms from the surface.’ This, you perceive, is 
strong language,” the Doctor paused to say, “and certainly of 
conviction to boot—” yet whether in sympathy with Darwin 
or in sarcasm George could not determine from the doctor’s 
impassive manner. “It is improbable in the highest degree,” 
the doctor resumed his reading, “that broad, lofty, isolated, 
steep-sided banks of sediment, arranged in groups and lines, 
hundreds of leagues in length, could have been deposited in 
the central and profoundest parts of the Pacific and Indian 
oceans, at an immense distance from any continent, and 
where the water is perfectly limpid.If then the foun¬ 

dations whence the atoll-building sprang, were not formed 
of sediment, and if they were not lifted up to the required 
level, they must of necessity have subsided into it; and this, 
at once, meets the difficulty. For as mountain after moun¬ 
tain, and island after island, slowly sank beneath the water, 
fresh bases would be successively afforded for the growth of 
corals.” The doctor took up his cigar, gave three rapid 
puffs to keep it lighted, and continued. 

‘ ‘ What a grand and noble conception was this of Darwin’s 
— the idea of a vast continent sinking slowly beneath the 
waves. There was an attractive grandeur about the conception 
of some great continent sinking slowly, slowly, into the vast 
bed of the Southern Ocean, having all its hills and pinnacles 
gradually covered by coral reefs as in succession they sank 

[233] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


to the proper depth, until at last only its pinnacles and hills 
remained as the basis of atolls, and these remained like buoys 
upon a wreck, only to mark where some mountain peak had 
been submerged.” 

‘ 1 But did Darwin consider it sound ? ’ ’ 

“Not only Darwin but all the world. As for Darwin 
himself, he was even more emphatic in his assertion of its 
truth than he dared to be on the subject of natural selection. 
Hear his own language again. ‘I venture to defy any one to 
explain in any other manner how it is possible that numer¬ 
ous islands should be distributed throughout vast areas — all 
the islands being low, all being built of corals, absolutely 
requiring a foundation within a limited depth from the 
surface.’ ” Dr. Jones interrupted his reading to say, “This 
again sounds strangely like the language in which he speaks 
of natural selection.” 

“How grand, how noble, how beautiful,” aspirated 
George. 

“Yes, yes. How like a passage from the Origin of 
Species! There is but just one thing wanting to it all.” 

‘ ‘ What is that ? That it is not set in poetry ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That it is not truth! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Truth! Then the generalization is not true ? ’ ’ 

“I mean to say that although it was accepted by the 
scientists as profound and complete explanation of the coral 
islands, although it was taught in popular treatises, although 
it was accepted on all sides as truth, it is not only not true; 
it has been proved false. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Proven false! What do you mean ? ’ ’ 

“Listen to the writer from whom I have been quoting. 
He describes the denouement as well as the prelude and the 
play.” 

“What has he to say on the mattersaid George with 
breathless attention. 

‘ ‘ The writer wished to read a lesson of caution; and this 

[ 2 34 ] 


ISLANDS, REEFS, SHOALS 

is how he does it, ‘And now comes the great lesson. After 
an interval of more than five and thirty years the voyage of 
the Beagle (Darwin’s vessel) has been followed by the"voyage 
of the Challenger, furnished with all the newest appliances 
• of science, and manned by a staff more than competent to turn 
them to the best account. And what is one of the many results 
which have been added to our knowledge of nature — to our 
estimate of the true character and history of the globe we 
live on ? It is, in many respects, directly the reverse of truth. 
With all his conscientiousness, with all his caution, with all 
his powers of observation, Darwin in this matter fell into 
errors as profound as the abysses of the Pacific. All the 
acclamations with which it was received were as the shouts of 
an ignorant mob. It is well known that the plebiscites of 
science may be as dangerous and as hollow as those of politics 

.Can it be possible that Darwin was wrong? (Mighty 

question!) Must we indeed give up all that we have been 
accepting and teaching for more than a generation?’ Here 
were sore perplexing truths,” said he, closing the volume 
and restoring it to its place in the revolving case, “but 
true ones nevertheless. And it is because of this and 
other things like it that I invariably follow the motto: Never 
trust the statements of a great man especially a great scien¬ 
tist. They will always bear investigating. There is no room 
here for unquestioning faith in authority, when especially it 
is scientific authority. I have invariably followed this prac¬ 
tice and it has always stood me in good stead. ’ ’ 

George’s jaw fell. His heart seemed to cease beating. 
“You have not much faith in scientific authority, then?” he 
queried scarce above his breath. 

“On the contrary I have the greatest faith in science — 
providing it is science and not guess-work or hypothesis. ’ ’ 

“What then do you call science?” George was getting 
very humble now. “I call science what is fully entitled to 
the name — experimental science — applied science — science 

[23'5] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


that can be verified — science that improves our methods of 
living — science that reduces labor and relieves man’s bur¬ 
dens— science, even that wrests from nature her secrets as 
far as they can be wrested in the purely speculative world. 
But—” and here his voice became tragic and hollow with- 
scorn and contempt —‘ ‘ what masquerades as science, the 
abominations that in our day are called science, the vain 
imaginings and wild guess-work and cock-sure impertinences 
that are given to us as science, I despise with all the powers 
of my soul .’ 9 

“You do not have much faith in speculative science, 
then ?’ 9 

“I have neither faith, nor hope, nor charity, for this 
form of folly. It is evil; for it is pride. It is vain; for it is 
fruitless. It is vain also; because it is vanity embodied in 
science. It is absurd; for it is impossible. It is madness; 
for it is unverifiable. It is a waste of precious time; for it 
can never bring truth. It is folly; for it can never bring 
certainty. Any day a new discovery may be made which will 
render your theory ridiculous.” 

‘ ‘ This is rather a sweeping indictment, is it not ? ’ 9 

“Yet not quite sweeping enough. If I heard that a 
theory of the Universe was formulated on the sole ground of 
science, it would be for me the strongest proof that it could 
not be true, but absurd. No; the worst form of mountebankism 
in the world to-day is that which claims that it can find out 
from science the mystery of things and solve the riddle of 
existence. And the proof of this is that men have never 
learned anything whatever, as to the whence and whither of 
human life, or even the whence and whither of our planet — 
the earth, from science. If they have, tell me what it is. 
And they can never arrive at any true solution of such ques¬ 
tions from this quarter; because they can never know every¬ 
thing. 9 9 

“Then you have little confidence in the theories that 

[236] 


ISLANDS, REEFS, SHOALS 

are propounded about these matters in the name of science?” 

On the contrary I have the greatest confidence in them 
the confidence that they must necessarily be misleading 
and false. My confidence in them is prodigious. I have the 
confidence that the man who propounds theories of this sort, 
is, by that very fact proved an irreclaimable, irreformable, un¬ 
mitigated fake. His case is hopeless. If he believes in him¬ 
self, he is a fool. If he does not believe in himself and still 
propounds them, he is an impostor. There is not the slightest 
chance that science of itself will ever be able to offer a solution 
of the problems of the universe that will be worth the atten¬ 
tion of a man of common sense. The fact that a man under¬ 
takes such a task is a proof that he is an incapable. ’ ’ 

“There is much reason in what you say. I believe that 
science can never give a solution that would be of any value. 
It could never be anything more than a gigantic surmise — a 
huge guess — a colossal “perhaps,” therefore a colossal folly. 
I think I understand now why it is that the solution of such 
problems must be sought elsewhere than in science.” 

“Folly! Folly; all of it! In a sane age such things 
could not endure an hour. Unless the world had been keyed 
up to the highest pitch of scientific credulity and expectation 
by the vauntings and vaporings of the Huxleys, Haeckels, et 
id genus omne all that depends on paleontology and geology 
would have been laughed out of existence long ago. How 
little do we know! How little can we know! How imper¬ 
fectly do we know what we claim to know! How much is for¬ 
ever hidden from human ken! How much that man will never 
know! How then give a solution of the universe ? How solve 
the riddle of the ages ? ’ ’ 

“It is indeed incontrovertible, that men must after all 
look to some other source than science for the solution of 
things.” 

“I wish the world would only come to the same rational 
conclusion. It would soon do away with much of the nonsense 

[237] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


and folly abroad on this and kindred questions. Prescinding 
wholly from the merits or demerits of the criticisms which 
are said to be made on revealed doctrine 'on these points, there 
is, to put it mildly, at least the strong probability that a 
revelation would be the channel through which knowledge of 
these things should come to man, if it came at all — these 
channels properly accredited and no other. And that it 
should come at all is what might be reasonably expected, if 
we are to regard the author of the universe as an infinite 
intelligent being who has intelligent beings among his 
creatures. ’ ’ 

“Very true. From such a relationship of intelligences at 
least a limited but necessary portion of knowledge must neces¬ 
sarily be expected. And of the relationship of intelligences 
there can be no doubt; for there is no denying man’s intelli¬ 
gence; and there is no denying that the world bears the 
imprint everywhere of intelligent authorship.” 

“Precisely. Hence the folly of what we hear about 
Darwinism and science — and what science is going to do to 
religion, to revelation and all Christian beliefs — to use the 
language of the man in the street. But sat sufficit. Mean¬ 
while, however, we must not forget that but for the courage of 
Sir John Murray the world would to-day be teaching and 
believing the falsehoods and cocksureness of Darwin on the 
subject of coral reefs. How many other false theories are 
we called upon to believe in the name of science for the simple 
reason that they have not had their Sir John Murray!” 

The Doctor who thus inveighed in such strong terms 
against Speculative Science had been, himself, the son of a 
Presbyterian clergyman, and a devout member of his father’s 
church until, like George Edwards, his belief in Christianity 
was completely undermined during his course at the univer¬ 
sity. On closer acquaintance, as Professor, he discovered that 
all was not scientific gold that glittered, and having abandoned 
speculation, he was now groping for the truth in religion. 

[238] 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Father Newcome 

A T THIS particular juncture in George’s unsettled con¬ 
dition of mind, when there was such a fierce clash in 
his opinions about the comparative merits of the evi¬ 
dences for science and religion, there came a brief diversion 
from the ordinary daily routine of his thoughts on these 
subjects. 

An English clergyman appeared suddenly at the uni¬ 
versity. He was a man of fine presence, superior culture, 
ready eloquence; a theologian, a scientist, a philosopher. 
George could not exactly discover to what particular denom¬ 
ination Father Newcome (for that was his name) belonged. 
It was quite evident that he must be either a Roman Catholic 
or a quite advanced ritualist; but — which — George failed 
absolutely to determine. He had at one time been a member 
of a religious community; but what community, for the life 
of him, George here, too, could not ascertain with anything 
like precision. Not that Father Newcome was reticent. Quite 
the contrary; but his views were so broad and his experience 
so narrow that George could make nothing of it. He had 
abandoned his religious community, it appeared, in order 
that he might the more easily pursue his own special work 
without let or hindrance from any quarter. And that par¬ 
ticular work was the reconciliation of science and religion. 
This was his special mission to the universities of America. 
Like Professor Comprise he had invented a compromise —- 
had found a common ground — on which science and religion 
could meet on equal terms. He was strong in his recognition 

[> 39 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


of the claims of religion and emphatic on the question of its 
rights; but he also recognized the claims of science. Indeed, 
he surrendered to its every demand. He accepted all its 
dogmas without question; and because he regarded its posi¬ 
tion as incontrovertible, he was impelled to do what he could 
to save the remnant of Christianity that was still left. His 
compromise would bring about a perfect harmony between 
modern science and Christianity. It would be more. It 
would be a victory for religion, so he said; but to those who 
took the pains to examine his compromise it was evident that 
if his plans for finally bringing the lion of science and the 
lamb of religion to lie down peacefully together, was carried 
out, the lamb would be peacefully resting inside the lion. He 
was now making a tour of the universities in America, just 
as he had done in England, in behalf of his compromise. 
Later he intended going to the universities of Europe for the 
same purpose. The work was undertaken wholly on his own 
responsibility. It was to be taken on his own recognizances. 
It was entirely his own; but was, of course, wholly in the 
interests of religion, which otherwise, according to him, must 
inevitably perish. 

Indeed he was impelled to it at this particular juncture 
because a world-renowned experimenter in synthetic chemistry 
had actually discovered life — created life — manufactured 
life, if you will. Thus scientific doubters were driven to their 
last ditch and destruction of religion was certain unless 
something was done. 

This last news was exceedingly interesting to George. 
Father Newcome seemed to attach himself instinctively to 
George from the very first, and George was completely fas¬ 
cinated by the charm of his manner and his frank sincerity. 

The confidence of Father Newcome, who was evidently a 
man of some parts, in the theories of modern speculation, had 
for a moment revived George’s scientific faith and hope; but 
on further acquaintance he discovered that Father Newcome 

[240] 


FATHER NEWCOME 


had, like himself, taken all his scientific knowledge wholly on 
authority; nevertheless he was slightly irritated when George 
hinted at a possibility of grounds for disillusionment. George 
did not, of course, carry his heart on his sleeve for strange 
daw-pecking; but he presented the difficulties which had 
beset his own path, in general terms. He had, however, no 
solution to offer George on the points where George’s faith 
in science had been unhinged; but there was one thing on 
which he had no doubt whatever; viz., that Dr. Hexham had 
given birth to life chemically in his own laboratory. This 
Father Newcome had seen “himself — with his own eyes;” 
and seeing is believing. He was present at the experiments. 
He had assisted Dr. Hexham in them. He had performed the 
scientific miracle himself, with Dr. Hexham guiding him. 
The precipitates — the actual formula — were there in his 
memorandum-book. It was true life did not always result 
from the experiment; it had resulted so frequently, however, 
that there was no questioning the accuracy of the test. 

There were two men in particular whom George wished 
to present to Father Newcome: Father Shairp and Dr. Jones, 
but Dr. Jones was absent from town and the present stay of 
Father Newcome was too short to admit of a trip from Toneton 
by Father Shairp during his present stay. On his return from 
the west and northwest, however, his stay would be longer. 

Meanwhile Dr. Jones had run down to Bar City for a 
bracing breath of sea air, before the crowds of July made the 
place intolerable. Besides, he always maintained that he de¬ 
rived the most benefit from June salt-water bathing and 
George and Father Shairp joined him for the day. 

The day was balmy — warm for June. The sea was a 
polished mirror as the three companions strolled and sat on 
the beach while George related the story of his recent visitor 
and described Father Newcome’s enthusiasm. 

“Do you suppose there can be error in it?” he asked, 
turning to Dr. Jones. 


[24i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“It is simply another case of Bathybius,” said Dr. Jones 
decidedly. 

“Bathybius! Bathybius!” said George, as if trying to 
recall a forgotton association. “What is Bathybius?” 

‘ ‘ One of the myths of science. ’ ’ 

And then George remembered that the name had been 
mentioned once already by one of the professors when Father 
Newcome was expatiating eloquently on the marvelous dis¬ 
covery of Dr. Hexham. Father Newcome had never even 
heard the name; and George although he had ransacked the 
encyclopedias, was unable to find it. Now that it was men¬ 
tioned again in connection with the new discovery of life, he 
was interested. 

“What was there of this? I am unable to find it in the 
encyclopedias or books of science,” he inquired. 

Father Shairp laughed. 

“I do not doubt it,” replied Dr. Jones. “The man is a 
fool who permits himself to be led by these will-o-the-wisp 
experiments or statements.” 

“Too late for such advice now!” said George as if the 
remark had included him within its scope. 

“And too premature had it been offered before,” rejoined 
the Doctor, dropping into George’s application of the remark 
to himself. 


[242] 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Bathybius 

“X)UT Bathybius! Bathybius! My friend, Father New- 
I# come, never heard even the name.” 

“No? That is one of the tricks. When a doctrine 
or a theory has been found out, hustle it out of sight imme¬ 
diately ; bury it instanter; let its name never be breathed in 
the family circle of science, like that of a faithless child who 
has brought disgrace on the family. Dead, buried, forgotten; 
that is the line «of treatment. ’’ 

“Well what did Bathybius do? What disgrace did he 
bring upon the family V 9 said George, laughing, “Why is his 
name consigned to eternal oblivion? You seem reluctant to 
enter on the question/’ 

“Not at all. There is nothing so exhilarating. It is one 
of the great tragedies of science, as Huxley himself termed 
such things. ’ ’ 

“Yes, the great tragedy of science is when a beautiful 
theory is slain by a fact,” said George, anxious to urge the 
explanation. 

“Exactly; and here was a beautiful, boasted, beloved 
theory most brutally murdered by a most cruel fact,” said 
Dr. Jones buttoning up his ulster, as the bracing air was 
becoming keen. Juliet’s nurse never uttered ‘0 heavy day,’ 
half as justly as might science on the fatal day of Bathyby. ” 

“But what was it anyway? A cow, or a plesiosaurus? 
An ornythorynchus or a camel?” persisted George, whose 
spirits were rising under the influence of the exercise in the 
exhilarating atmosphere. 


[ 243 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“Shame that you are not acquainted with this famous 
creature. You confess yourself ignorant of the great things 
of science.” 

“It can not be so very great — so great as you want to 
make it — for I can not find its name even in the encyclo¬ 
pedias, or dictionaries.” 

“That is what I told you precisely. Great before the 
tragedy only. But you should be acquainted with all the 
mythologies, even those of science.” 

“The myths of other mythologies are still in the books. 
This is not the case with Bathybius, the greatest myth of 
science, as you call it. Why are other myths retained in 
knowledge, while this, the greatest -of them, is crowded out ? ’ ’ 

“Science should be as proud of her myths as any other 
realm of fiction.” 

“Science is not fiction.” 

‘ ‘ Not always, although speculative science usually is. ’ ’ 

“But is it not strange that we find nothing of it in the 
books ?’ ’ 

“Science has too many myths to be proud of any of 
them. That is why you do not find it. ’ ’ 

“I do not believe there ever was such a thing in exis¬ 
tence.” 

“That is precisely what every one thinks at the present 
day. There certainly never was such a monster in existence; 
nevertheless its supposed existence was at -one time regarded 
as the most brilliant decoration on the arm of science — the 
pride and glory of science — although its glory was short¬ 
lived.” 

‘ ‘ When was its glorious reign ? ’ ’ 

“Its star appeared on the horizon when the deep-sea 
soundings were first taken by naturalists for the laying of the 
Atlantic cable. It rose in the ascendant very rapidly; its 
declination was equally rapid.” 

“It came from the ocean depths, then?” 

[244] 


BATHYBIUS 


Oh deal, yes! That is why Huxley coined for it its 
beautiful Greek cognomen. It was a merry and a jovial 
christening of life -— not life on the ocean wave, but life far 
beneath its abysmal depths. It was supposed to be the foun¬ 
tain head of all life. ’ ’ 

“What did it look like?” 

‘ ‘ It was a slimy mucus found in the bottles in which the 
deep-sea soundings were sent to England. It aroused the 
curiosity of the naturalists who at once sagely concluded that 
they had found something. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Which they had, of course. ’’ 

“Yes, the problem was solved, they thought. They had 
at last discovered THE ORIGIN OF LIFE!” 

“Oh! as important as that.” 

“Yes. The stuff was structureless, you see, like all the 
protoplasmic matter *out of which the lowest animals are 
formed, and this especially aroused the curiosity of the scien¬ 
tists of a sanguine temperament. Here was something new. 
Might not the deep sea after all be the vast cradle of organic 
life ? Might it not be that out of the womb of the vast ocean 
came the teeming myriads of living things on the planet? 
Were there not here, at the bottom of the ocean, at these 
abysmal depths, nature’s hatching grounds, where she secretly 
carried on the workings of life hidden from the view of 
men, until she had been at last discovered in her secret work ? 
Was there not at the bottom of the ocean bed the very spawn¬ 
ing ground of life? Here were her hidden processes. The 
great principle of life rocked in the cradle of the deep. Here 
she was secretely at work both by night and by day weaving 
the web of existence for plant and for animal, nature ever 
seated at her loom and plying her busy shuttle at the bottom 
of the ocean. How secret were her processes! Yet so it was 
— or at least so it appeared to be. What was the use of 
searching for missing links when the secret was out and they 
found where life really had its beginning and origin? How 

[ 245 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


opportunely too it came to confirm the Darwinian specula¬ 
tion ! Indeed it was so much of a confirmation that men were 
almost taken off their feet and did not even take the pains to 
examine too closely. In fact it seemed that its discovery 
carried with it a sort of providence — only those who thought 
so did not exactly believe in providence. Here was mother 
mud deep and fast in the mire, and yet laboring for life and 
death, day and night, to keep life alive on the planet. If it is 
glorious to come unawares upon a natural specimen of the 
animal world at work in its own way how infinitely more 
interesting to surprise mother nature herself in her bottomless 
homes, sowing and planting and nursing and watering and 
tending and cherishing the seedlings of life. Surely life was 
well worth living. Enthusiasm, enchantment, intellectual fire¬ 
works became the order of the day. Even sober-minded men 
were carried off their feet by the popular enthusiasm; and 
science in general, drunk with the glories of the new discovery, 
spoke of it as an accomplished fact that was now incontrover¬ 
tible. There was glorious enthusiasm at the christening and 
jubilant shouts that Darwin was vindicated. Every scientist 
of any note or repute hastened to pay his homage to the 
new born king of science, and Darwinians were beside them¬ 
selves with joy at this great and grand generalization — this 
imposing discovery.’’ 

“What part did Professor Huxley assume in the jubilee 
and hilarity? Was he loud in his demonstrations?” 

‘ ‘ He introduced it to the British Association in 1868 amid 
great enthusiasm and rejoicing, and the jubilee was complete. 
He conferred upon it its fine, Greek name, became its sponsor 
and wet nurse! ’ ’ 

“Was the acceptance universal?” 

“Universal! It ran like wildfire through the popular liter¬ 
ature of science and the conception was hailed like a new 
revelation — written, however, in oceanic mud this time.” 

‘ ‘ Did they try any experiments with it ? ” 

[246] 


BATHYBIUS 


Bless you! experiments, indeed. Imagination was 
brought into play. Even scientists have imagination — some¬ 
times. They saw wonderful movements in this mysterious 
slime did those hardheaded, matter-of-fact, unimaginative, 
perfectly sober scientists — or they imagined they saw it. 
Now, it became to their excited imaginations an irregular net¬ 
work. Then they beheld it visibly — unmistakably — altering 
its form. At least they said they did. Or again someone was 
ready to lay down his life as the forfeit, if he had not seen 
entangled granules gradually change their relative positions. 
Those men who assailed religion for its credulity now saw 
with their own eyes — what never happened — the workings 
of this mother slime to supply existence and protoplasmic 
supplies to the living world at large. These were your 
scientists — and this was your Professor Huxley. ’ ' 

‘ ‘ And what came of it all, quoth little Peterkin ? ’ ’ 

“A man with the true spirit of science, who kept his 
head amid all the excitement went to sea soon after in her 
Majesty's good ship, “The Challenger." While all raved and 
enthused and uttered vain things his sturdy mind never lost 
its balance. He was neither awed by the authority and 
majesty of great names, nor by what the -owners of those names 
maintained so stoutly they had beheld with their own eyes. 
He watched. He waited. He investigated and his patient 
watching and steady and firm purpose was rewarded." 

‘ ‘ Did he discover the thing to be a fake ? ’' asked George, 
dropping into the vernacular. 

‘ ‘ It depends on what you mean by ‘ fake ’ — that expres¬ 
sive expression," said the Doctor with a bland smile. “If 
by ‘fake’ you mean that the good and precious scientific gen¬ 
tlemen who imagined they discovered it, put up a bluff on the 
rest of mankind — no. They were as completely sold as the 
rest of their brethren. They believed what they had seen or 
imagined they had seen t*o be the origin of life. It was one of 
those cases so common in science where the conclusion was 

[247] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


announced to the world long in advance of the evidence. In 
other words the wish to believe in the new god 'of science was 
too strong, and they acted upon the wish. They found that 
it fitted into the requirements of a preconceived theory admir¬ 
ably, and they took it to their bosom without question. Neither 
was recommendation of any kind asked for — as sometimes 
happens in the case of distinguished trans-Atlantic visitors ■— 
they bit badly, and were badly bitten in return. Oh! there is 
as much human nature in a scientist as in other folk — some¬ 
times a little more. This was the language of an old salt 
whom I talked with on the subject.” 


[248] 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A Savant's Version 

<< T"X7"HAT did he have to do with the question?” 

W “ Everything. He was a navvy on the Challenger 
at the time and was witness to the whole perform¬ 
ance — even to taking the soundings. His language is pic¬ 
turesque. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I would like to hear his description. ’’ 

“I am not sure that it is impossible. He has given up a 
seafaring life, and is, I believe, at present working here in 
Yarvale. I believe I know where to find him.” 

And find him they did. And what was more he proved 
to be none other than our friend the archaeologist who figured 
in the Stonefelt discovery. He greeted Dr. Jones with a merry 
twinkle of his piercing small eyes and entered into the sub¬ 
ject willingly and with spirit. He had been, he told them, 
seven times around the world. 

“Yes,” he said, when Dr. Jones asked him about his 
experience, “yes; we wus daily haulin’ in bucket afther 
bucket from the deep say bottoms. The’ injin an’ th’ ropes 
an’ th’ pulley wuz a wurrkin’ an’ a’ asquawkin’ all day long. 
I was not able to make out what they wanted so much cowld 
wather for. Ses I to meself, mebbe they think they’ll sthrike 
an ocean distill ’ry. But grog doesn’t grow at deep say 
bottom; you’ve got t ’ come t ’ th ’ surface t ’ get it. And, by 
golly, after a while t’ hull of it was dumped overboard again.” 

“Did you drink any of it?” questioned George. 

“An’ all th’ while” continued the archaeologist, not 
deigning to notice the interruption — even by a look, I 

[249] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


noticed they wnz examinin’ it with their microsgoats. And 
what are they Inkin’ at it so closely for, ses I to meself? Do 
they expect mebbe to find goold or fire in it? And sure if it’s 
dhrinkin’ wather they take it for, and are lukin’ for thim 
little hay thin jarms; it’s all foolishness. No one’ll ever 
dhrink that wather, barrin’ th’ ocean takes a notion to shtan’ 
on its head and begorra sometimes you’d think it was wantin’ 
t’ do that same. But even if it did, a man would hav’ t’ be 
hard dhruv t’ dhrink sich salty shtuff. Faix I never saw sich 
wurrk as they wuz a carryin ’ on with their microsgoats =— an 
eyein an’ an eyein’ an’ an eye in’ of the wather day after day, 
and finally I axed Mike Kelly what they wuz a’ doin’ any¬ 
way ; an ’ he ses to me, ses Mike — he’s a grate scholar, Mike 
is — ‘You know that they sed in Inglind, that there was a life 
facthory somewheres at the bottom of the say — the place 
where life was first made and they’re a wantin’ to see how 
it’s done.’ Ye know,’ he ses, ‘we don’t know what life is nor 
where it comes from; and they think they’ve found out and 
want to make sure.’ How’s that says I. Don’t we know 
where life comes from? And don’t we too ? There’s no hatch¬ 
ery nor incubator needed for life to come when the good Lord 
wants it. But he says to me — says Mike, ‘Ye know how it 
is wud fire. Ye takes a match and ye scratches it and there 
you have fire born to order; or as it was afoor the time of 
matches. You take flint and y’ take shteel and ye shtrike and 
ye have fire; and they think that mebbe it’s the same with life. 
The haythins. Cudn’t I tell ’em that life was something 
different, that fire and earth and air may be all blood rela¬ 
tions, but life is another thing and comes only from Him who 
made the fire and air and water and earth. ’ ’ 

“You are quite a philosopher, perhaps a scientist,” said 
George. 

“You may well say that,” was the rather unexpected 
reply. “Some need to be a philosopher and some need to be 
a scientist these times when those who pretend both the one 


A SAVANT’S VERSION 


and the other are neither. A philosopher is one who knows 
the truth when he sees it, and a scientist is one who thinks he 
knows it but does not ; and some does not believe all he sees 
and that is how it is with me. But it did surprise me to see 
them acting in that way with the say wather.” 

“But what did Mike Kelly tell you about it?” 

“He said the skientists thought that there was something 
in the wather down there that looked to them like the frog’s 
spawn of life, that they were sure of it, and there was no 
doubt about it, and they gave it some kind of an Irish name 
— Pat Hibbyis, I think it was, he said they called him.” 

George laughed outright at this Hibernicization of the 
fine Greek name Bathybius; it came so unexpectedly. The 
archaeologist perceived it and with a knowing wink, he said, 
“Yes, I suppose he was some relation of that Irishman in the 
Old Testament, Mac Hibbyus, that told us about Purgatory, 
but he dropped the ‘Mac.’ ” 

‘ ‘ What do you mean ? ’ ’ asked George, completely puzzled 
by this linguistic excursion. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! lots of them drop the ‘O’ and the ‘Mac. ’ ’ ’ 

“And w r hat did this Irishman—this Pat Hibbyis do?” 
he inquired. 

“Why he did what no Irishman ever did before or after 
him. He was supposed to turn his Maker adrift and give life 
himself. The Irish can do a great many things when the 
Inglish aint luckin’; but I never heard of an Irishman 
putting his Maker out of a job; though he does often give 
Him plently to do and to spare, to keep him out of mischief.” 

“Well what did they find out with the microscopes about 
this Irishman of yours — Pat Hibbyis ? ’ ’ 

“Begorra they couldn’t find him at all at all. He was 
shy about coming into the bucket I suppose. The distance to 
the top was far and he probably was afraid of falling out 
before he reached the top and being swallyed by the big 

[25i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


fishes. He was safer at the bottom, at least so it seems he 
thought, for he wouldn't bite.” 

“Well how did they ever find out about him?” 

“You know an Irishman has a strong wakeness for the 
bottle and they thought they’d catch him this way — and 
begorra they did. Pat couldn’t resist the temptation when 
they let down a bottle to him and up he come.” 

“Came up with the bottle eh? The bottle was the best 
bait for Pat.” 

‘ ‘ True for you; whenever you want to catch an Irishman 
just tickle him with the bottle; he can’t resist it. But the 
singular part of it was that Pat was found not clinging to the 
bottle but in it.” 

There was a merry twinkle in his eyes. 

“But that was not the strangest part of it. When they 
did finally get him they found him doing precisely what they 
expected and what the savvies at home said he would be 
doing — making life. ’ ’ 

“How do you account for that phenomenon,” inquired 
George. 

‘ ‘ How do I account for that phenomathaun is it ? ” 

“Begorra I don’t account for him nohow nor thry to. 
But one thing I’m thinking and it is: There are few things 
an Irishman with a bottle can’t do; and when he gets into 
the bottle I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he was able 
to oust the Almighty Himself and undertake to do his work 
for Him. He does some strange things when the bottle gets 
into him.” 

“Then you say that he *or they did actually find the 
origin and process of life operated by an Irishman, named Pat 
Hibbyis. This proved the contention of the philosophers and 
scientists at home did it not ? ’ ’ 

“Musha thigginthu! Have you Yankees no brains at all, 
at all? Don’t you know that the sages and savants at home 
claimed that this thing which they thought was the beginning 

[252] 


A SAVANT’S VERSION 


of life was found at the bottom of the say — they called it by 
something that sounded like Pat for first name — and they 
swore it could be found anywhere at the bottom of the say; 
but nary a find could the Challenger people find it. It looked 
like a kind of a challenge between thim and us. They kep’ a 
sending’ of it to us from Jermyn St. day after day and we 
kep’ a sendin’ to them of say wather without any Pat in it 
whatever. And at last when they began to get tired pumping 
and drawing the wather and examin’ it with the microsgoats 
and a findin’ nothin’ but salt wather, they said ‘let us thry 
the bottles.’ They wuz a goin’ to let down the bottles when 
I said, said I, what’s the gud in letting down the bottles to 
the bottom of the say ? It’s hard wur ’rk and thin its harder 
pullin’ them up again, and all you get for your thrubble is 
salt wather. Why can’t we fill them with salt wather here 
and see whether this Irishman Pat Blazes or Pat Hibbyis 
makes his appearance? The bottle will fetch him if he’s there 
at all; whether it’s at the bottom of the say or at the top. ‘Go 
ahead; ’ ses Mr. Murry—and I fills the bottle with the wather 
outside the bulkhead. I saw Mr. Murry a squintin’ at it, and 
quick as lightnin’ he pulls out his microsgoate and glances at 
it for tin seconds about and he yells, ‘Be gob ther’s Pat 
Hybbyis’. I knowed I’d fetch the spalpeen with the bottle, 
said I, and that it would be useless labor to go fishing for him 
at the bottom, that he’d come to the top just as well when 
he’s out of the bottle. Let him do the thravellin’ and save me 
the pullin’ and haulin’ and it was no joke eyther that pullin’ 
and haulin. ’ But anyway there we had our Pat as pat you 
plase.” 

“But this only proved your adversaries’ contention” 
maintained Father Shairp still insisting. 

“Ah, Father; how simple you are. You know very well 
those spalpeens that wor thryin’ to get rid of their Maker 
by hook or by crook and wor ready to swear to anything in 
the name -of science and haythinism for that purpose, wbnted 
to make b’lieve that this here factory was at the bottom of the 

053 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


say and that down in the deep shlime and mud was hidden the 
saycret of life, and here it comes out at the top.” 

“But the water had come from the bottom,” objected 
Dr. Jones, still trying to bother the navvy. 

“True for you that came from the bottom. But it didn’t 
take us long to get it from the bottom and from the top and 
from the top and from the bottom again; and top or bottom 
it was the same.” 

“How was that?” 

“When it came in pails or buckets there were no traces 
of Pat, whether it came from the surface or from the deeps; 
when it came in bottles it was Pat always whether it was 
raised in the bottles or whether it was poured into them after 
being raised; no matter whether it came from a depth of one 
foot or one thousand feet.” 

‘ ‘ There must have been some magic in the bottles — there 
always is.” 

“There you have it. No; I was wrong. When we used 
bottles that were fresh from the factory, there was no Pat; 
when we used bottles that had been imptied of their contents 
— usually wine or liquor, there sure enough was our good 
friend, Pat Hibbyis. You see the Irishman smelled the liqor 
every time; for every time there he was. ’ ’ 

“That was something quite marvelous.” 

“Nothing marvellous for an Irishman to smell liquor, 
when it was around was it ? ” 

Dr. Jones laughed. 

“Well anyway, this shlimy shtuff they called Pat Hibbyis 
and which they said was the origin of life proved to be nothing 
else but a mixture of sperrits of wine or liquor and say 
wather; and it stands to reason that if it was, you can mix 
the liquor and sea wather at home withut going to the bottom 
of the say at all like Mr. McGinty; only I do be thinking it 
would be a wilful and a wicked waste to mix good liquor with 
bitter salt water, or even with clane fresh wather for the 

[ 2 54 ] 


A SAVANT’S VERSION 


matter of that. But it knocked them haythin fellers higher’n 
Mickey Gilroy s kite anyhow; for it showed that there is no 
life factory at the bottom of the say at all. It knocked all 
their hatcheries and incubators into glory.” 

“I should rather say that it knocked all the glory out of 
them.” said Father Shairp thoughtlessly. 

“Oh, then your rivrince knew about it all the while. In 
fact I think I could make a life factory myself here at 
Yarvale if I only had the matayrials. And there’s plenty of 
say wather” he added roguishly scanning the features of 
Father Shairp, “But maybe your rivrince is a timprince 
man. Ther’s lots of good Irishmen that is. An’I meself am a 
black taytotler since I tuk the pledge from the grate Father 
Mathew. ’ ’ 

And the jolly tar and archaeologist touched his hat jaun¬ 
tily to Father Shairp, ignoring George and the doctor utterly, 
and walked to the other side of the street to hail his trolley 
car for home. 

“There,” said Dr. Jones, to George, “you have in pic¬ 
turesque language, the whole story of Bathybius. It was not 
easy for one unacquainted with the facts to follow the fellow 
through all his dry conceits and whimsical drollery (he is one 
peculiar type of Irish wit or rather dry humor;) but even 
he, with his little knowledge of the great sciences which make 
men so famous, was able to grasp all the weakness and absur¬ 
dity of the situation and laugh heartily at the mistakes of 
great men and renowned scientists.” 

‘ 1 The story was practically as he gave it then ? ’ ’ 

“Essentially so. John Murray was the scientist in 
charge on the Challenger. He had doubts and grave ones too, 
about the identity of the famed Bathybius — Pat Hibbyis! 
What a conceit! (and Dr. Jones laughed heartily at the 
recollection.) He noticed that the deep-sea soundings never 
had any traces of this mother mud or mother slime. This won¬ 
derful matrix, supposed to roll at the bottom of the ocean on 

055 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


her vasty couch, was never visible. It always came from 
London. An accident one day solved the problem. Some one, 
by accident or design, poured some sea water into a bottle 
which contained some spirits of wine, when, lo! Bathybius, the 
new god of the scientific world, appeared in all his glory. It 
was the alcohol and sea water combined that gave him birth. 
Talk about Thetis and her slippers! The mixture produced a 
chemical precipitate of sulphate of lime, and — Bathybius 
sank to the bottom of the ocean, as well as of history and 
science, into irredeemable disgrace. It would be a difficult 
matter to get any of the great scientists of the age, who 
staked their faith on this new discovery to converse on the 
subject to-day. Whenever you find that one of them is bor¬ 
ing you on the subject of evolution, merely introduce the sub¬ 
ject by way of inquiry and the effect is magical—your bore 
disappears instantly. I wish we had as easy a way of ridding 
ourselves of ants; they are becoming very annoying.” 

“How was it that men were so credulous? It was 
ridiculous. ’ ’ 

“Why is it that men believe any nonsense which suits 
their fancy on any subject? They believed it, swallowed it 
whole, asked no questions, and all because they thought it 
confirmed the Darwinian hypothesis. But let me tell you one 
thing. If it had been religion that was detected in so ridicu¬ 
lous a blunder, the world would never have heard the end of 
it.” 

George nodded his assent to this statement. 

“But that is not all,” Dr. Jones continued. “We would 
all be obliged to accept the doctrine of Bathybius to-day and 
regarded as medievalists — or worse, if we demurred, had not 
Sir John Murray had the courage and perception and sound 
sense to go to the bottom of Bathybius and prove it false. ’ ’ 

George groaned audibly. 

“There is still another corollary to all this,” pursued 
Father Shairp. “It is that in all probability there are scien- 

[256] 


A SAVANT’S VERSION 


tific doctrines forced down our throats to-day, equally false, 
equally absurd, and equally ridiculous as our friend Bathy- 
bius, simply because the proof of their absurdity is not quite 
so patent as was that of our friend Bathybius. ’ ’ 

“It is quite evident,” conceded George at last, “that every 
question in speculative science should be challenged peremp¬ 
torily and made to give an account of itself. All speculative 
theories should be made to show their verification papers and 
passports before they are admitted into the ranks of accepted 
explanations or take their places in text books. 

“There is need of policemen in the world of scientific 
thought if anywhere at all events,” said Father Shairp. 
“People should not be too rash in taking to their bosoms all 
the brilliant doctrines that are broached, just because they 
have the sanction of the great names in science. 

“And Professor Huxley fathered such an absurdity as 
this! No man’s judgment — or honesty — is to be relied up'on 
where his fancy and prejudices are interested,” George con¬ 
tinued to murmur to himself all the way home. 


[257] 


CHAPTER XXX 


A Modernist and Radium 

O N FATHER NEWCOME’S return from the west, out of 
deference to George’s friendship for him, Father Ram¬ 
say had invited a few special friends to meet him at the 
Rectory, including Dr. Pembroke, Dr. Jones, who happened 
to be visiting in town, and other distinguished personages. 
Father Shairp who had learned something of the leanings of 
Father Newcome, made a special resolution that he would 
restrain his sallies, and had covenanted with his tongue that 
it should utter no sarcasm during the evening. 

After dinner the company adjourned to Father Ramsay’s 
study and the conversation had turned on the sick lady to 
whom Dr. Strong, a specialist, had just been paying a profes¬ 
sional visit, and thence turned again from the lady to her 
illness, and the cause of her illness, and last of all, the cause 
of the cause of all this — George’s apostasy. 

“The touching and deplorable feature of it all, is,” said 
the physician, “that it will not be lasting. But it will have 
done its deadly work just the same; and then the scales will 
fall from George’s eyes and he will see.” 

“But that will be all too late for any relief or benefit to 
his mother?” inquiringly suggested Father Shairp. 

“Save and except the joy among the angels over one 
sinner doing penance. She will be the most joyous of the 
angel throng.” 

“Can nothing be done to prolong her life even until 
then ? You seem to think that the time until his return will be 
short. ’ ’ 


[258] 


A MODERNIST AND RADIUM 


“Who can administer to a mind diseased? There is 
where the malady is seated. No drugs can reach the spirit.’’ 

“Physically she does not seem to fail rapidly.” 

But the canker is at the core — and it is eating very 
rapidly, it is but a question of a very brief space.” 

“Since her time can not be prolonged, could not George’s 
awakening be hastened? What a pity it can not come in 
time to give her the consolation of leaving the world with 
the knowledge that her lost sheep had been led back to the 
fold! Could you not do something with George?” 

“No. It would be wrong and rash to hurry it; perhaps 
dangerous. In my opinion it is best not to force those things. 
From my slight acquaintance, I should say George’s mind is 
not a specimen of hothouse plant that will stand forcing the 
date of its bloom.” 

“If she could only have the satisfaction of knowing that 
it is coming for certain — even after her death — it would 
assuage the agony of her dying hour. ’ ’ 

“Mrs. Edwards understands that more fully than you 
or I. She is as certain of it as if she had had a divine revela¬ 
tion on the subject. She seems to be a most extraordinary 
woman both in her capacity for suffering and in her intui¬ 
tions.” 

“I have always noticed that. With most people those 
intuitions of hers would pass for visions or revelations or 
something from the unseen world, but she never thinks of 
regarding them as anything extraordinary.” 

‘ ‘ She is certainly a most gifted and holy — yes, privileged 

_soul. I firmly believe she is certain of George’s return — 

as certain as if she had seen it taking place,” said Father 
Ramsay, speaking for the first time. 

‘ ‘ Strange that such a woman should have such a son; the 
one the personification of faith, the other the impersonation 

of doubt,” said Dr. Pembroke. 

“Another case of Monica and Augustine,” said the 

[ 2 59 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


physician/ 4 and the sequel will be a replica of theirs—with 
Monica in the other world, however.” 

44 Then you think there is no hope of George’s immediate 
return?” asked Father Shairp. 

4 4 No. This is the history of doubt in human souls. 
Manly souls often imagine there is a principle at stake in 
clinging to their errors, even when they are discovered to be 
errors. They are quick enough to embrace error without a 
thought of weighing the question at issue properly. But when 
it comes to a question of return, they are different. They 
think they are strong, when they are only stubborn. They 
imagine they are clinging to a principle.” 

4 4 Besides the novelty of the situation does not wear off 
so easily,” said Father Shairp mildly. 

4 4 The delusion must grow to its fulness like a cataract 
on the eye, and -only then can a cure be effected.” 1 

44 Yes,” said Father Shairp, breaking slightly through 
his restraint, 4 4 They must first swell with intellectual pride 
and feel the glorious sensation and intoxicated pleasure of 
imagining that they are towering above their fellowmen, above 
the ignorant, the uneducated, the unscientific, the rabble. ’ ’ 

No one made comment. 

“But why do they not open their eyes before? Even 
puppies, blind as they are, open their eyes in nine days,” 
added Father Shairp, forgetting the covenant he had made 
with his tongue that it should utter no sarcasm. 

4 4 The intellectual animal remains blind for more than 
nine days, Father Shairp. Of course many of them are not 
really blind at all. But for those who are, there is nothing 
but wonder and rapture and increasing — ever-increasing 
admiration up to a certain period. This corresponds exactly 
to the period of their supreme contempt for the rest of the 
world. It is during this period that they give vent to their 
sneers and sarcasms, that their haughtiness becomes intoler- 

1 This theory seems to be now abandoned by specialists. 

[260] 



A MODERNIST AND RADIUM 


able, that their vauntings and boastings become fulsome and 
nauseating, and that their language is interlarded with such 
phrases as ‘the intellectual man,’ ‘the man of science,’ ‘we 
have outgrown superstition, ’ ‘ an age that is guided by reason 
alone,’ ‘scientific methods applied to all departments of 
knowledge, ’ ‘ the splendor of scientific truth, ’ and so on to the 
end of the chapter. These phrases all belong to the period of 
assent.” 

Dr. Strong paused as if contemplating the absurdity of it 

all. 

“And then?” suggested Father Shairp, who was fast 
beginning to effervesce under this stirring language. 

“And then” continued Dr. Strong, “comes the great 
disillusioning. The omniscient novice in science — neophyte 
and catechumen as he has been — begins to perceive that the 
countless questions which have been engaging his attention, 
and because of which he has forsaken Christianity—reject¬ 
ing its views upon these points — are not solved, as he foolishly 
thought they were, by the scientific methods. The answers 
are as far off as ever. He discovers that his tapeline of science 
is no longer than the rejected tapeline of religion which he 
has contemptuously flung aside — not even as long — al¬ 
though at first he thought it was going to reach around the 
universe. He begins to discover that instead of widening his 
intellect he has only narrowed it; that instead of bringing 
order out of chaos, as he had expected, he has merely made a 
chaos worse confounded; that his key to the mysteries of the 
universe and human life in particular will not open any new 
door — nay will not open to a solution of any of his own 
personal problems for him. He then becomes disgusted with 
the intellectual world, is very humble, wanders around the 
entire circle of doubt, becomes, perhaps, a universal sceptic, 
even a cynic; learns in his wanderings that all the world’s 
solutions of its own problems have been dismal failures; that 
the new solutions are for the most part old; that man, with all 

[261] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SORAPPED RELIGION 


his advancement and progress of which he boasts so much, is 
not even capable of inventing an error or absurdity that was 
not invented thousands of years ago — ever since man had the 
privilege of constructing error for himself. At last it begins 
to dawn on him — if he have the grace to grasp it — that the 
religion which, in his pride and disdain he flung aside is the 
only agency that offers anything like a solution that is sup¬ 
ported by reason. All others unlock a chamber here or there, 
the contents of which contradict the disclosures in the next, 
and so on to the end. He realizes that religion alone can 
harmonize the discordants and bring a meaning out of the 
whole; that it alone can give an answer to man’s countless 
questions. He has bought his experience — bought it dearly; 
but when he realizes this he retraces his steps humbly; the 
beauty of the Christian solution breaks upon his mind with 
a new light and he admires now more than he had before 
doubted. Even the difficulties and mysteries in the Christian 
solution begin to appear reasonable; for he realizes the limi¬ 
tations of man’s power and how reasonable it is that he can 
not grasp everything; that as Locke somewhere says: ‘It is 
folly for us to quarrel with our intellects because they are 
too feeble to grasp everything; we are not big enough to 
grasp everything.’ He then begins to understand that it is 
the old Edenic curse that has been upon him all the while — 
the thirst for impossible knowledge — which he could not un¬ 
derstand even if given to him — the endeavor to achieve the 
impossible by bribe and promise — the old delusion and 
temptation of the evil one ‘Ye shall be as gods,’ that has been 
the cause of his wretched detour. It will be so with George, 
I have little doubt. His mind is candid, open, honest; and 
no false pride will hold him back.” 

“That is the real danger. So many have the pride of 
De Lammennais, so few the humility of Fenelon,” replied 
Father Ramsay with much feeling. 

“A real lover of truth will take the path of Fenelon. It 

[262] 


A MODERNIST AND RADIUM 


costs much without doubt; but it is better to be right than to 
be a false philosopher; this so-called scientific truth, is simply 
a glow of phosphorous. I am speaking from experience. I 
have travelled round the entire circle like Lacordaire, Ozanam, 
Louis Veillot and the rest. But love of truth and humility 
are the great vanquishers of intellectual pride .’’ There was 
a slight tremor in the doctor’s voice. 

What remedy would you apply ? 91 

“Many remedies,” broke in Father Shairp. “First a 
stiffening of the backbone among our men of influence. Take 
our Catholic scientists and professors and give them a few 
lessons in the strengthening of the spinal vertebrae, for one 
thing . 9 9 

“Why, what reason is there to find fault with them?” 
asked Father Ramsay instantly. 

“Good heavens! A hundred reasons,” said the phy¬ 
sician. “First they should have some knowledge of the 
subjects at issue. Then they should not be so weak and 
toadyish and cowardly in the presence of these questions as 
though they were begging for clemency. They allow them¬ 
selves to be awed and cowed and bullied by the big names of 
science — save the mark; by the very sound of the names. 
Then they are as apt to pick up the wrong views in science 
and philosophy as anybody else, some of them even more so. 
They are apt to let themselves be frightened by the shibbo¬ 
leths of the scientific world such as intellectuality of the age; 
the progress of our day, and such claptrap; and they are 
always ready to make a rush for the scientific bandwagon 
while they are all the time scheming and plotting and plan¬ 
ning as to how they can make the church realize that she can 
•only conserve her best interests by compromising with the 
claptrap of the times. How many of them do you find taking 
up the cudgels against the mistakes of the age. On the 
contrary they will coquette with them and undertake to show 
that all the modern vagaries can be harmonized with the 

[263] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


teachings of the church; and worst of all, if you undertake 
to take up the cudgels yourself — for want of a better cham¬ 
pion, ten to one you will have to fight not one of the enemy 
but <one of these advanced gentry who will take the opposite 
side against you, when all the while he is showing his ignorance 
of the subject he undertakes to discuss — yes, even those of 
some standing are apt to utter a caveat. ‘And if the salt lose 
its savor, wherewith shall it be salted?’ ” 

“Many of these scientific errors would have dropped out 
of sight long ago but for some of our Catholic scientists who 
insist upon galvanizing them into life again, much to the 
disgust of many real scientists who would rejoice to see them 
decently buried,” interposed Father Shairp. 

“That is rather a severe arraignment, Father Shairp; 
hardly, I think, you will pardon me, justified by the facts. ’ ’ 
“No one has a better right to know than I have. I have 
been assailed in exactly the same way myself. And the 
beggar — he was a lay professor — knew so little about what 
he was talking about, that he candidly admitted that he 
went to the enemy for his opinions. He had evidently been 
overawed by the big names and swallowed the teachings 
whole without ever studying the subject.” 

“I remember the instance very well; Father Shairp, I 
retract humbly. The facts do justify you in that case.” 

“And it would be the same in ten thousand cases. Good 
Heavens!” Father Shairp was now wholly unleashed and 
forgot all his covenants. The others enjoyed it too much to 
interfere, and he now took the lead in the conversation. 
“Good heavens!” he cried; “Who stands up to defend the 
church’s doctrine on these questions? What stand do our 
institutions of learning — our Catholic institutions — take on 
these important subjects? Where do our colleges and uni¬ 
versities stand on the question of Biblical criticism? Where 
on the so-called scientific questions? Where do you find a 
voice raised on behalf of an intellectual church as against a 

[264] 


A MODERNIST AND RADIUM 


false science? It is all like Balaam’s prophecy, quite the 
other way — a whining plea for the church not to hamper the 
glorious intellects. Faugh! Cowards, all, are they — without 
knowledge, without science, without faith, without spinal 
column, seeking after the soft side of life and permitting 
their rights and their faith to go by default.” 

“Why do you not do something yourself in defence of 
the truth ? ’ ’ asked Father Ramsay. 

“Ten to one if I did attempt anything of the kind — 
supposing that I were capable — the magazines would be like 
the teachers. They would look upon it as obsolete to defend 
the church against modern views. I would probably get 
a polite note with my returned manuscript, telling me to 
catch up with the times, that we were nearing the twentieth 
century, not the tenth. Or if they happened to be captivated 
by the literary style, as, of course, they must” he interjected 
with a wink, “and so led to print it, the odds are that the 
editor would append or prefix a note announcing that he was 
not responsible for the views contained in the article — such 
things have happened to me already. They are all one — all 
the same — magazines, professors, editors, teachers, — all so 
frightened by the modern claptrap that they are intent upon 
one point only; viz.: to reconcile the church and revelation 
with the results of modern thought. That is the great —” 


[ 265 ] 


CHAPTER XXXI 


A Misapprehension and its Sequel 

‘"\7~ES, Father; that is the great question. That is the 
I great work of the learned men of today,” said 
Father Newcome — who had just entered in time to 
hear the latter part of Father Shairp’s remarks — wholly 
mistaking the connection, however. He had just returned from 
a call to the parlor and entered in time to hear the concluding 
words of Father Shairp’s remarks: “they must unfailingly 
do something to reconcile the church with the results of 
modern thought. This is the great ” —; he wholly misunder¬ 
stood Father Shairp’s position. Poor man! He did not 
dream that he was sitting hatching a stick of dynamite in this 
instance and had foolishly stooped to peck at it. 

“Yes,” he repeated unctuously. “The genius who can 
do this has a double crown of immortality awaiting him r— an 
immortal crown of glory in heaven, and an immortal wreath 
to deck his name in the annals of the church.” 

Father Newcome had innocently courted his fate. 

“What are the results of modern thought?” exploded 
Father Shairp in a voice of thunder while lightning flashed 
from his eyes. 

Ordinarily the question would have aroused all the fire 
in him; hut in the present instance the situation was aggra¬ 
vated by the supposition that the speaker was mocking him 
and took up the subject to tantalize — in other words, had 
taken him up deliberately on the question. 

The newcomer, innocent of the situation and completely 
bewildered by the fierceness of Father Shairp with whom he 

regarded himself in unison, simply repeated his remark. 

/ 

[266] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

Yes,” he innocently repeated, “that is the great work 
to reconcile the church’s position with the results of modern 
progress.” 

The repetition of the insult, as Father Shairp regarded 
it, completely exasperated him. At best he was not inclined 
to be merciful or lenient on this subject. 

* 1 What are the results of modern thought with which the 
church must needs take the trouble to reconcile herself?” 
he fairly roared in a single breath, almost in a single word; 
and that word seemed shot out of a cannon, it came with such 
force and fierceness. 

Father Newcome was fairly staggered and either could 
not for the moment collect his thoughts or could not express 
them. He began to suspect his mistake. 

“What is the result of modern thought to which you 
allude ? ’ ’ Father Shairp again repeated a little less explosively, 
it is true, but with a determination of opposition which there 
was no mistaking. Voice, look, eye, face, gesture — all seemed 
to show that he was ready to devour the hapless adventurer, 
who had the hardihood to oppose him. 

Father Ramsay looked at Dr. Pembroke, and Dr. Pem¬ 
broke looked at Father Ramsay, and the other guests all 
exchanged significant glances. 

All looked at Father Shairp. If his antagonist proved 
worthy of his mettle, it was manifest there was going to be 
a battle royal; for it was quite evident that Father Shairp 
never was seen in better disposition for an intellectual duel. 

Father Newcome looked a little nervously at his opponent. 
He was beginning to perceive that he had made a mistake in 
supposing that the conclusion of Father Shairp’s remark 
which he had heard on entering meant that the formidable 
looking individual with the bellicose air was on his side of the 
question. If his words had not been uttered already they 
would hardly have been uttered in the light of his newer 
understanding of the question. However, he realized that the 

[267] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


thrice-repeated question called for an answer, and with some 
hesitation and timidity apparent in his voice and manner, he 
said somewhat vaguely: 

“Every one knows the modern objections against religion; 
it is not necessary to repeat them here. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But it is,’ ’ came the answer like lightning. “ If we are 
going to reconcile a crazy old church with that claptrap 
phrase ‘ the results of modern thought ’ — whatever that may 
mean — it is necessary to know what may be the points of 
difference. Again, therefore, I ask what are the results of 
modern thought with which the teachings of the church are at 
variance ?” 

“It is unnecessary I am sure to repeat them to you, good 
father, you certainly know the points at issue as well as I 
do. , ’ 

“I don’t know what you know; but I do know that I do 
not know of any points of Christian belief that need recon¬ 
ciliation with any truth of modern research ’ ’ — and he laid 
particular emphasis -on the word truth. 

Father Shairp was more placid now; but his frown was 
still terrible. His opponent was still silent. 

“There is implied in your statement of the task, and 
your eulogy of the hero who may be foolish or fortunate 
enough to attempt and accomplish it, an assumption that the 
task is not as easy one; and that somehow or other the fault 
is the church’s. Has modern thought put the church 4 in a 
hole ’ as the school boys phrase it V ’ 

“It is very plain,” replied Father Newcome, now some¬ 
what recovering his self-possession, “that in the light of our 
modern knowledge, our views even of religion have changed 
upon many points. ’ ’ 

The fire in Father Shairp’s eyes was forked lightning. 

“What points of Christian faith — of Catholic faith — 
have undergone this change, will you be kind enough to 
inform us ? ” he inquired in a voice that seemed like iron in its 

[268] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

grating. He was evidently determined to hold his opponent 
determinedly, doggedly and relentlessly to the logical issues. 
It was his custom never to permit his opponent to wander a 
single step from the point at issue. The bulldog’s grip on the 
throat of his adversary was not more unyielding than his 
grasp on his opponent in his unyielding, exacting logic. 

Father Newcome tried to evade the question when thus 
brought face to face with it in its naked simplicity. The fact 
was that he was not a little startled at the new light thrown 
•on his own mental attitude by the uncompromising attitude 
of his opponent. He had never met opposition like this before 
and his intellectual folly had grown in consequence, but now 
that it met with a determined opposition he saw how feeble 
were his lights and on what treacherous ground he was stand¬ 
ing. He was one of those who regarded the cause of religion 
hopeless unless it compromised. 

Nevertheless he was willing to throw himself into the 
breach and save what might be left of religion for the world. 
He was ready to embark as pilot to Peter’s bark and, instead 
of the successor of Peter, guide it safely through the rocks 
and whirlpools which were around it on all sides. He had even 
prepared his own crude nostrum to meet everything. He did 
not therefore like the question when put in this light, and 
narrowed down to the point at issue which he regarded as a 
choice between faith and unfaith. So he answered somewhat 
evasively: 

“That your friend, George Edwards, with such a brilliant 
intellect, should find it necessary to discard religion in re¬ 
sponse to the demands of the intellectuality of our day, shows 
plainly that there must be a difficulty. That he has thrown 
over religion to follow his belief in science and modern pro¬ 
gress, shows how serious are the difficulties and how wide 
the differences; and how important, nay imperative, is a 
reconciliation. ’ ’ 

It was a home thrust well aimed. Father Shairp admired 

[269] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the skill of his adversary in making it, just as a skilled hand 
at tierce admits the skilful play of his adversary. But at the 
same time he only smiled as he said: 

“Your remark is ingenious, my friend, but it will not 
serve. We are not now discussing the merits or demerits of 
George Edwards’ intellect. When opportunity serves I shall 
be pleased to discuss that subject with you as also the diffi¬ 
culties of religion which he has encountered. For the present, 
however, I am arguing with you — not with George Edwards 
— and it seems to me that a moment ago you expressed an 
opinion that it is necessary for the church to change her 
attitude. You must speak for yourself in defence of your 
position — unless you choose to abandon it. You can not shift 
the controversy in any way over to the shoulders of George 
Edwards.” 

Father Shairp spoke clearly and with a cold ring to his 
voice like that of polished steel. Every word went deep into 
the heart of his opponent. He was slow to answer, and Father 
Shairp continued. 

“A strange business, moreover, this would be — this re¬ 
conciliation of the church whenever one of her sons sees fit to 
forsake her. A jolly time she would have trying to suit every 
fancy. But that is not her method. What reconciliation did 
she attempt at the loss of Origen? Or of Tertullian? Or 
when England deflected ? It is not the business of the church, 
or any part of her mission, to recast anew her doctrines or 
any one of them and seek to reconcile them with the follies of 
the age, or whenever a sage sees fit to question the validity of 
her views. And regarding our friend, George Edwards. There 
is no room in his intellect for error to remain long there. 
Like Augustine *or Lacordaire or many another errant son 
of the church, he will one day again knock at her doors for 
re-admission and become one of her most brilliant defenders 
and noblest champions. But you have not yet answered my 
question, although this is the fifth time I have asked it. You 

[270] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

have not yet told us what are the results of modern thought or 
science which are antagonistic to the church.’’ 

“The accepted views and beliefs in the scientific world 
today, ’ 9 was the vague reply. 

1 ‘ Oh ! this is but vague trifling , 9 ’ cried Father Shairp in 
his old dangerous voice. ‘ ‘ The belief and views of science are 
legion. Which of them is in conflict with the church, as you 
say ? ’ ’ 

The lightning was coming back to his eyes and the thun¬ 
der to his voice. 

‘ ‘ The whole trend of modern thought and progress. Every 
new scientific truth; every new discovery . 9 ’ 

Father Shairp was again thoroughly aroused. 

“Do the truths of science conflict with the church?” he 
asked fiercely, almost savagly. 

“Without doubt many of them do.” 

The company held its breath. The drop of a feather 
could be heard. 

“What facts of science — proven facts — contradict the 
church’s teachings? Facts, mind you, facts and truths; not 
guesses.” The tension in Father Shairp’s voice was almost 
distressing. 

Father Newcome was silent. 

“Does steam?” 

“No.” 

“Does electricity? 

“No.” 

“Does any of its branches? Does telegraphy?” 

“No.” 

“Does telephony?” 

“No.” 

“Does the motor car — the automobile?” 

“No.” 

“Does electric lighting or heating?” 

“No.” 


[271] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“Does wireless telegraphy V 7 

“No.” 

“Do the improvements in agricultural and manufac¬ 
turing processes?” 

‘ ‘ No, not that I am aware of. ’ ’ 

“Do any of the mechanical inventions of the age or all 
of them together?” 

“I can not say that they do.” 

“Then will you kindly tell us what are the truths of 
modern science that discredit Christianity? As far as I am 
aware these are the principal discoveries and inventions of the 
present century and the past.” 

“You have not mentioned any of the discoveries of 
physical science have you?” inquired Father Newcome 
quietly. 

“I have not, haven’t I? What else pray have I been 
enumerating but the advances in physical science — some¬ 
times called industrial?” 

“You have said nothing about biology, or physiology, or 
astronomy, ur paleontology , 7 7 replied the other with a smooth¬ 
ness that was almost purring in its softness. 

Father Shairp turned suddenly and looked him straight 
in the face, eyeing him with a look that was almost ferocious. 

“And what have you to say about these?” he almost 
savagely inquired. “I thought there was something under 
all this hesitancy. To quote our Angela a la Patience, ‘I 
thought as much. I thought as much!’ ” 

The confidence of the other was manifestly shaken by the 
manner in which Father Shairp had met what he regarded 
as a settler. Indeed he was not quite clear on the points on 
which any or all of these had discredited Christianity. He 
had taken in, in a vague way, the popular notion that they 
had discredited it on many points; but the points he could 
hardly put his finger on. Haze and generality had blinded 
him, and he now mentally cursed his carelessness in not 

[272] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

informing himself more accurately. He felt abashed before 
the confidence of Father Shairp who had evidently made a 
study of the subject, and he stammered and hesitated. 

Father Shairp perceived it and turned it bo good account 
for himself. ‘ ‘ Our Champion of Science is not weakening, is 
her’ he inquired. “A doughty knight in such a noble cause 
should not permit his courage to ooze out at his fingers’ ends. 
We have not heard how these particular glories of the age, 
as you regard them, have taken the ground from beneath 
Christianity. Will you be so kind as to inform us?” 

“I supposed that everyone was aware of the truths 
brought to light in these departments within the last half 
century.” He had evidently supposed that the mere an¬ 
nouncement of these would have overwhelmed his antagonist 
with confusion, and since they did not he felt the embarrass¬ 
ment of his position. 

“We must have a bill of particulars in every instance. 
No rumbling of distant thunder will frighten us from our 
position. ‘Play ball,’ good reverend father. Gome to the 
point. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ These sciences have shown many things to be true which 
the church has been regarding as false, and vice versa.” 

“Particulars, good father; particulars. No vague or 
glittering generalities. Nor what is more, no guesses as sub¬ 
stitutes for facts. Nothing but proven facts and incontro¬ 
vertible conclusions. I am somewhat acquainted with the 
style of warfare made in the name of science and enlighten¬ 
ment by your school.” 

“Nevertheless the world looks upon the age as one <of 
advancement and enlightenment and one which has outgrown 
the childish beliefs of Christianity.” 

“Whe-e-e-e-o-w,” whistled Father Shairp, “let us come 
to close quarters then. (The other shuddered perceptibly) 
“What has biology proven against the Catholic church?” No 

reply. 


[273] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“What has zoology?” No reply. 

“What has physiology?” No reply. 

“What has astronomy?” No reply. 

“What has paleontology?” No reply. 

“What has archaeology?” No reply. 

“What has all of them put together?” 

Father Newcome at last pulled himself together and with 
what was evidently a great effort, exploded with: 

“The facts of paleontology discredit the Mosaic cos¬ 
mogony, do they not?” 

“At last something,” said Father Shairp, with evident 
relief and satisfaction at having performed the miracle of 
forcing the dumb to speak. “Very well. In what lies the 
contradiction?” 

“The Mosaic cosmogony is wholly obsolete. It can n*ot 
be made to square with the facts of geology or paleontology. ’* 

“With what facts of geology or paleontology?” 

“The age of the world, for instance.” 

Father Newcome was beginning to gain confidence and 
breathed more freely. 

“What does geology and paleontology say about the age 
of the world?” 

“That it must have lasted far longer than Genesis says 
it has, for one thing.” 

“But how long does Genesis say the world has lasted?” 

“ Oh! a matter of some several thousands of years or so. 
Genesis says it was made with all things in it in six days some 
six thousand years ago.” 

Father Shairp turned squarely face to face with Father 
Newcome, and held his eye firmly in his own: “What does 
science say is the age of the world ? ’ ’ 

Father Newcome was staggered by the suddenness of the 
question. He did not dream of having the tables turned 
upon him in this way. It was an easy matter to say that the 
church contradicted science on this point. But it had never 

[ 274 ] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

once occurred to him that science was hardly in a position 
to ridicule Genesis or anything else, since its own notions 
about the age of the earth were so wild and vague. The ques¬ 
tion really startled Father Newcome. Father Shairp was 
obliged to repeat it. 

“The belief of science/’ replied Father Newcome with 
embarrassment, “is that the earth must have existed several 
millions of years. ’ ’ 

“Beliefs! Beliefs! thundered Father Shairp, “what has 
science to do with beliefs? What have we to do with the 
beliefs of science? Science must repudiate all such things 
as faith, otherwise it is a failure. It must give only facts or 
incontrovertible truths — proven beyond question. No, no. 
In the bright lexicon of science there must be no such word as 
faith or belief. Fact, truth, proof. This is the language of 
science. These are the only terms which it can employ with¬ 
out admitting ignominious failure. What does science teach, 
as certain, regarding the earth’s age or duration ? ’ ’ 

“Our Catholic scientists admit the beliefs of science on 
this point —” 

“Our Catholic scientists!” impetuously interrupted 
Father Shairp, re-echoing Father Newcome’s words. “Shame 
on such quibbling! What have Catholic or non-Catholic 
scientists to do with the question? There are some of the 
noblest scientists of the age — as there have been throughout 
all this age of miserable sophistry — who will not commit 
themselves to any statement on this subject; thus showing 
plainly that they have little confidence in conclusions of the 
scientific world —as you call it. They do not oppose it, 
presumably for the reason that they do not care to draw upon 
themselves the voice of the scientific rabble. Why then 
should the church be expected to make a pronouncement upon 
the subject ?” 

“But our own Catholic scientists accept this view,” he 
again protested. 


[ 2 75 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


4 ‘Again shame on such quibbling,” cried Father Shairp. 
“What has a Catholic or a non-Catholic scientist to do with 
it ? I am not aware that a Catholic scientist knows more about 
the subject than any one else. Are Catholic scientists more 
infallible in their science than other men? If we are to dis¬ 
trust scientists as your strange distinction implies, I would 
place just as little faith in the infallibility of Catholic scien¬ 
tists as in that of non-Catholic scientists. If there is a ques¬ 
tion of juggling with truth at all — and it is your suggestion 
which insinuates the notion — the fact that the results are 
approved by a commission of scientists who happen to be 
Catholics will not help us. It is not a question of what belief, 
or opinion, or theory, or guess, Catholic Scientists favor or 
lean towards. It is simply a question of what opinion has 
been proved true — what opinion has been ineontrovertibly 
demonstrated. Catholic scientists have no charter of infalli¬ 
bility when they enter the realm of guesswork. There should 
be no such term in scientific nomenclature at all. Again shame 
on the so-called science which consists in vague pronounce¬ 
ment without any definite statement of fact or truth! But 
a Catholic scientist is just as apt as anyone to scurry to cover 
when the shaft of ridicule is pointed at him. I know, however, 
many scientists who are not Catholics — or even Christians — 
who smile significantly and shrug their shoulders when they 
hear of the wonderful results of modern thought.” 

Father Shairp paused while Father Newcome seemed 
greatly impressed. “But,” continued Father Shairp, as if 
recollecting himself, “but to return to the subject which we 
were discussing: what does science say about the age of the 
earth? What is the age of the earth according to its esti¬ 
mate ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Science says it is millions or billions of years.’’ 

‘ ‘ Which — and how many millions or billions ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ It does not say exactly. ’ ’ 

“A discrepancy of a million or a billion of years is quite 

[276] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

as important, however, as a discrepancy of some thousands_ 

even a little more so you will admit. Again, therefore, I ask 

what is the exact age of the earth according to your infallible 
science ? ’ ’ 

Science does not fix the exact age. ’ ’ 

“But since it is the self-imposed duty of science to teach 
us these things, is it not a sign of weakness in it not to be able 
to do its duty. To quote your own words, ‘This proves the 
weakness of the scientific position. ’ ’ ’ 

But it is certain that it is older than six thousand 
years. ’’ 

“And who has contended that it is not? The Church, 
following St. Augustine, countenanced this opinion long be¬ 
fore science even dreamed of it, as we have seen — although 
the matter was wholly outside her province. But how long 
does science maintain the earth has been in existence ?” asked 
Father Shairp, shutting his left eye hard and looking off 
into space with his right. 

‘ ‘ The lowest estimate is about 100,000,000 years, I believe; 
the highest 30,000,000,000 years” said Father Newcome in a 
lofty, pompous, triumphant, scientific manner. “That is 
something more than 6,000.” 

And exceedingly accurate for a scientific conclusion, 1 ” 
retorted Father Shairp. 

“Let us see,” he continued, again closing one eye and 
looking hard at Father Newcome with the other, ‘ ‘ 100,000,000 
from 30,000,000,000 leaves 29,900,000,000 years—a mere baga¬ 
telle. It impresses one wonderfully to think of the dignity 
and grandeur of a science which can treat with contempt and 
afford to disregard a trifle -of twenty nine billion nine hundred 
million of years as a thing of no consequence in a matter of 
scientific conclusion. No wonder science should upbraid the 

1 The sceientific estimates of the world’s age given out from time to time 
differ so widely and wildly, that they are here disregarded, and the figures 
above are taken from them at random. 

[ 277 ] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


church with a beggarly reckoning of a few paltry thousand 
years when it can afford to fling away in disdain as of no 
consequence tens of billions of them. ’’ 

Father Newcome winced considerably as the inaccuracy 
of science was made so evident and even grotesque. It really 
did seem to him, when put in this way, that science might he 
more exact in its estimates. But he must defend his position. 

“You know that the difference in estimates is due to the 
differences in computation as to how long it has taken the 
earth to eool, ’ ’ he said half apologetically. 

“I presume so,” said Father Shairp with apparent care¬ 
lessness, “though it is somewhat of a pity that they did not 
get a little closer together in their figures. It would make a 
little better impression on the world’s notions about ‘exact 
science.’ 29,900,000,000 years in difference is, at least a trifle 
inexact, you will admit. But,” he said, swinging around 
sharply and looking Father Newcome directly in the eye, 
‘ ‘ who says the world has been cooling ? ’ ’ 

Father Newcome would have laughed outright in derision 
of the question; but there was something in Father Shairp’s 
look which restrained him.. 

“Why that is a belief — an accepted belief of all scien¬ 
tists. It is held by scientists of every school, ’ ’ he replied with 
some show of contempt of ignorant non-scientific gentlemen. 

“Belief! Belief! Again, belief! Why does science not 
deal in fact and proof instead of belief?” 

“But it is equivalent to a truth. It is almost a certainty” 
protested Father Newcome. How incredulous were those 
men! 

“How many scientific perhapses does it take to make a 
scientific certainty?” asked Father Shairp rather tantaliz- 
ingly. 

‘ ‘ But this is a truth -— almost. ’ ’ 

“Almost!” echoed Father Shairp. It was his time to 
adopt the tone of derision. ‘ ‘ But I want to ask you one more 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

question: ‘ ‘ Why did the earth have to cool ? ’ 1 

This time Father Newcome laughed outright in scorn. It 
was his 'only reply. 

11 Supposing the earth has not been cooling at all?” 
persevered Father Shairp. 

Father Newcome now laughed unrestrainedly. 

“My dear Father, you are not in earnest I now perceive.” 

“In earnest,” cried Father Shairp. “I was never more 
in earnest in my life.” 

Father Newcome’s laughter now became contemptuous 

pity. 

“No wonder the intellectual world holds the church in 
derision;” he said to himself rather than to his hearers. 
“Why,” he said looking around the room to note if there was 
a look of sympathy in his scorn, “Why, this is as bad as going 
back to flat-earth and sun-moving times,” and the good man 
was evidently troubled over the ignorance of Father Shairp. 

“But supposing it could be shown that the earth has not 
been cooling at all? What then?” 

“My dear Father, you are only trifling;” and Father 
Newcome made as if he wanted to go. 

“I was never more serious in my life.” 

Father Newcome now watched him narrowly. He evi¬ 
dently began t-o think that his mind might be unbalanced on 
the subject, perhaps. Perceiving nothing to justify his sus¬ 
picion, he said: 

“Pray explain your meaning.” 

“Are you not aware that a recent discovery of science 
upsets all your millions and billions of calculations of the 
years of discrepancy?” 

“I had not heard of any,” he replied with lofty in¬ 
credulity. He was evidently losing valuable time arguing 
with this ignoramus. 

“Possibly you have heard of Professor and Madame 
Curie?” 


[ 279 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


The other nodded an indifferent assent. What could 
Father Shairp possibly know about them? 

“You may have heard that they were on the eve of a 
most remarkable discovery — the discovery of a new element 
which they call radium. ’ ’ 

“I am not so sure that I have.” 

“You are not quite as ardent a disciple then as you are 
an advocate of science. But it is a fact all the same. ’ ’ 

“Well?” 

“Well the discovery is an actual fact. Our science Club 
has been in constant uninterrupted correspondence with 
them. ’ ’ 

“Yes?” and Father Newcome began to show signs of 
interest. 

“But yesterday a cable from Madame Currie announced 
the actual discovery and its far-reaching results. No doubt 
remains about it and its immense importance to science.” 

“But what has this got to do with the cooling of the 
earth ?’’ 

“You are not a great student of science or you would 
know. But I will tell you.” 

Father Newcome was now beginning to show signs of 
renewed interest. 

“If there has been radium in the sun and radium in the 
earth there is not and has not been any diminution of heat 
in these bodies at all.” 

Father Newcome was now breathing rapidly. 

‘ ‘ It has been calculated that if there merely be a fraction 
of one per cent radium in the sun that almost would make 
good all the heat lost by the sun annually. ’ ’ 

“I do not believe it,” bluntly dissented Father Newcome 

“Ask your scientists. I am but giving their figures,” 
said Father Shairp quietly — for him. 

Father Newcome was manifestly becoming nervous. 

“Now if that be the case — and it is an unquestionable, 

[280] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

scientific fact, not a guess or a hypothesis — what shall we 
say of the cooling of the earth? My dear good father —it 
has been discovered by Professor and Madame Curie. It is 
a fact a certain fact of science. Hence there has been 
no cooling process at all — and all the vaporing of scientists 
about the millions and the billions of years which it has taken 
the earth to cool has been merely hot air. What do you think 
of your scientific facts now?” Father Newcome could only 
answer, “This is private information; we must wait and see 
whether it proves true. ’ ’ 

But Father Ramsay went to the door where the newsboy 
had just deposited the evening Times, and the first news that 
greeted his eyes, in flaring headlines, was “Discovery of 
Radium, etc., etc. 

Father Newcome was completely astounded. He had 
been accustomed in his way to boast of the advancement of 
the age. He, like a thousand others, had been so dazzled by 
the splendid progress of the industrial sciences and their 
wonderful benefit to mankind, that he never paused to reflect 
or distinguish. It was all science to him. He had not the 
perception or perspicacity to see that the science that flooded 
the earth with so many magnificent inventions and discoveries 
that they changed the face of the world and society, had 
nothing in common but the name with the science that was 
continually carping at religion and calling itself intellectual. 
He had not the perception to discover for himself, that one 
was the good angel of mankind and the other its evil genius; 
that the industrial sciences played the part of a fairy god¬ 
mother to mankind, while speculative science was the scowling 
and haggard witch that visited the human family with con¬ 
tentions and discords. 

Thus, while he boasted like others of the progress of the 
age, he never took the pains to analyze it. He had been car¬ 
ried along in the whirl of progress. He firmly believed that 
the church was in conflict with a mighty power, as formidable 

[281] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


in reality as it appeared to be in name; still, at the same 
time, he had great faith in the church and in religion, and 
never doubted but that in the long run the church would be 
able to give a good account of herself when it came to a 
question of settling up scores and balancing probabilities. 
What he raged against was the indifference with which the 
church seemed to view forces which he foolishly imagined to 
be real, and made no effort to reconcile herself with them. 
He took all the boasted glories for fact and supposed that 
much that was mere conjecture — and flimsy conjecture at 
that — was scientific truth. He had read and absorbed so 
much of the scientific brag and bluster of the last half 
century that he was of opinion that Darwin had thrown a 
wonderful light on the origin of things, and that Darwin’s 
theory joined to that of La Place had actually brought us face 
to face with what was really the origin of the earth at least, 
and of the living things upon it. He had been completely 
browbeaten by the arrogance and intolerances of the noisy, 
blatant school that was known as the gong-men of science. 
He was not a little impatient that the church had not at once 
jumped at the Mivartian hypothesis as the solution of the 
difficulty, and as the basis of reconciliation between science 
and religion. He never doubted but that science had laid up 
in her treasury as much coined scientific truth as she made 
boast of. He had, in a word, supposed that the time had long 
gone by for questioning the boasts of science on many 
points claimed by her, and that the church was losing precious 
time in not offering to it the olive branch of peace. 

He was therefore thunderstruck at his opponent’s posi¬ 
tion, at the close-knit logic, at the invincible argument, at the 
manner in which all of his -own home thrusts (as he regarded 
them) were met or parried, at the manner in which all his fine 
redoubtable artillery was silenced at the trigger, and at the 
extraordinary preponderance of logic on the side of religion, 
when things were viewed in the light in which Father Shairp 

[282] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

had placed them. He was able to perceive that all the logic 
was on the side of Father Shairp while on his own, there 
seemed to be merely the weight of opinion. And he asked 
himself which was weightier, weight of opinion or weight of 
logical argument. He felt keenly his own inability to defend 
his side, and realized that in conflict with logic, opinion had 
but little weight. For the first time in his life he felt that 
to take a stand aganst religion on mere opinion makes science 
ridiculous; and for the first time also he realized the force of 
the retort that until science will have reached the last point 
of possible knowledge she is merely guessing, since she knows 
not but that some day a discovery will be made which will 
upset all her theories. 

On these grounds he felt that it would be folly to put 
forward the Darwinian hypothesis as one part of the scientific 
criticism of the church, especially with a controversialist who 
knew how to use his weapons as skilfully as Father Shairp, 
With others whom he could overawe by the glamour of scien¬ 
tific names this might succeed. But never with such a fierce, 
powerful, uncompromising antagonist as this man showed 
himself to be. 

But above all was he stunned by having the ground cut 
from under his feet by the consequences of the discovery of 
radium. It was at once a moral, intellectual, and scientific 
earthquake for him. He had regarded the cooling of the 
earth as the very Gibralter of science, and now it was heaving 
beneath his feet. What theory of science could he now regard 
as fixed? None. His only hope was that it was all a bad 
dream — that he would wake and discover it so to be. All 
these theories of science had been to him as household gods, 
for half his life time; and now they all came tumbling down 
before this terrible antagonist. He feared to defend another 
theory before this dreadful man who might put them to ridi¬ 
cule and thus give them the reverse of a euthanasia. He there¬ 
fore frankly said: 


[283] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“ Father Shairp, I perceive you are a man who has given 
this matter some study, more in fact than I have done. You 
have evidently given it much thought and I do not wish to 
argue or discuss the matter further with you. I shall place 
your views before some of my professionally scientific friends 
and some day may report to you the result,” and he reached 
out his hand to Father Shairp as if to cement the truce, but 
quite as much as a pledge of good faith and friendly regard. 

“You are quite right nevertheless, my good friend,” 
rejoined Father Shairp, “in declaring that there is an an¬ 
tagonism between the church and the results of modern 
thought and progress” (he looked rather quizzically at his 
companion)—there was not a trace of the lion in him now — 
or of vehemence—even his companion began to wonder if, 
after all, this strange antagonist had not been feinting all 
along, playing a part and assuming a role which was not his 
by nature, or if there was not as ardent a scientist concealed 
under his severe demeanor, as there was in open evidence, a 
specimen member of the church militant. But Father Shairp 
smilingly added: 

“The results of modern science are toto coelo, assuredly, 
opposed to the church. But what are the results of modern 
science ? ” he asked earnestly, and resuming some of his whilom 
fierceness. “I will tell you, my friend. The most evident 
results of modern progress are intellectual pride, intellectual 
dishonesty, moral and material dishonesty, libertinism, free 
thought (in all the foolish sense of the term;) vagaries of 
intellect in the regions of philosophy, science and religion; 
arrogant claims and pretensions which are based on emptiness; 
looseness of thought, and laxity of morals; disbelief in God, in 
His Church, in His Providence, in His existence, in a Supreme 
Being; in virtue, in morality, in social uplifting. These and 
a thousand other like things are the result of modern thought, 
of modern progress, and modem science. Hence you and I 
thoroughly agree in the opinion that there is — that there 

[284] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

must necessarily be an antagonism between modern progress 
and the Church. But I am sure you and I also agree on the 
fact that there could not be anything else than antagonism, 
and that any foolish attempt at reconciling these elements so 
essentially hostile can be nothing short 'of midsummer mad¬ 
ness. A harmony of such opposites is what neither you nor I 
desire. ’ ’ 

This is a view which I had not taken before of the 
matter, but that was not precisely what I meant,” said Father 
Newcome, evidently greatly impressed. 

‘‘No, n-ot at all; but nevertheless it is true. But I have 
mentioned all this to show you the slovenliness and inexactness 
of the thought that is outside the church, and in use in the 
very world that brazenly accuses Christianity of inexactness 
and slovenliness. It is the old cry of the thief, ‘ Stop Thief! * 
to avert suspicion from the caller. What our modern enemies 
mean when they make use of these high sounding expressions 
is not that science has been able to boast of any discoveries 
and knowledge which are actually in conflict with the church 
or hostile to her beliefs—much as science would wish this—but 
that there are supposed to be discoveries and knowledge and so 
forth (which in reality, are but guesses and surmises and theo¬ 
ries and hypothesis) which are actually hostile to the church. 
They will not — they can not — they dare not — however, 
call these things modern knowledge, though they would fain 
do so; for knowledge it positively is not, nothing but mere 
guess and theory based more or less on supposed facts — the 
facts themselves not always genuine, always hazy, and if any¬ 
where with a semblance of truth, lending no color whatever 
to the erroneous theories which are foolishly founded upon 
them. And when the facts themselves are clearly genuine, 
they are usually explicable in many other ways than by the 
extravagant guesses with which they are associated. They 
are by no means so formidable or so critically destructive of 
religious beliefs when we overcome our fear and look them 

[285] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


straight in the face. A little of the light of destructive 
criticism turned on the so called scientific results of the pres¬ 
ent day would, in my humble opinion, create a panic among 
the ranks of the apostles of modern progress and doubt. The 
very best service a scientific physician could bestow on the 
world of science to-day would be to treat it to a taste of its 
own medicine. It would be a great treat to the world at large 
also; for the insincerity and duplicity of the scientific world, 
with its intellectual boasting, has had a disastrous effect on 
the human mind, and has demoralized the world at large; so 
that chicanery, duplicity, false assumption, and unwarranted 
pretence are the law of the world to-day, in society, in com¬ 
merce, in politics, aye, almost in religion. ’’ 

Father Newcome was somewhat overawed; and indeed he 
looked greatly bewildered. Absolutely helpless he was — and 
looked. His only resource was to conjure up before his mind 
the vision of Professor Blank in whom he had the utmost 
confidence for his unerring and invincible wisdom. 

Father Shairp continued however. 

“The worst scourge of the world to-day and the worst 
enemy of the church is not infidel and foolish science, inept 
though it be. This will fall of its own weight. But it is that 
portion of the Christian world which coddles an atheistic 
science and philosophy, and which surrenders everything to it 
without striking a blow — milksops like Ellsmere in the hands 
of the so-called learned squire, who yield judgment, reason, 
intellect — all, not to the reasoning of the squire, but to the 
awe of his estate and the imposingness of his library — the 
modern Jericho falling at the mere sound of the shouts of 
science so-called. It all reminds one of the exorcisms of the 
Indian savages expelling the evil spirit of religion out of the 
ministers of the Gospel. All must yield without a blow. 
Peter’s denial of his master at the challenge of a serving 
woman was heroism compared with such conduct. They 
abandon religion at the mere challenge of science and never 

[286] 


A MISAPPREHENSION AND ITS SEQUEL 

stop to examine whether they are not fleeing from a phantom. 
And they are not all outside the church either. ” 

“I was not aware that Catholics had betrayed their 
faith,” replied Father Newcome bridling a little. 

But Father Shairp was merciless. 

“And what have you been doing all this time, my good 
father, but impugning my faith and yours?” he inquired 
with an air that sent a thrill through Father Newcome. ‘ ‘ But 
you are not the only one. Here is a sample culled as a gem 
from the lecture of a Catholic priest to the world at large. 
Listen: ‘Catholics generally have got to make up their minds 
on the problem of reconciling the fruits of the twentieth 
century civilization with their faith/ ” He flung down the 
volume which he had picked up. “Now what does he mean? 
The fruits of twentieth century civilization, mind you! What 
are the fruits of twentieth century civilization with which our 
faith needs reconciliation? Does he mean that there are any 
facts of science *or that there is any real incontrovertible 
knowledge on the scientific side of the world which contradicts 
our faith? If he means this, why does he not say so? If, 
on the other hand he means such fruits and results as I have 
been pointing out — doubtful in origin and application — 
why does he wrap them up in mysterious phrases and talk 
oracularly about them? The fact is that it is the cowardly 
surrendering to mere sounding phrases and the foolish echo¬ 
ing of them that makes apostates, by making it appear that 
there is really something which needs to be reconciled. But 
rest assured, good father, that had infidel or atheistic science 
had in its possession any ‘twentieth century fruits’ antago¬ 
nistic to the Catholic faith, it would not have slept before it 
had conveyed the intelligence to the world.” 

A ring from the telephone close by startled the company 
and broke up the conversation. After a series of “Hello’s” 
and “Yes’s” and then an interview at the telephone, Father 
Ramsay turned to the company and said: “An explosion has 

[287] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


occurred at the Johnson foundry and James Geehan is dan¬ 
gerously injured.” Father Shairp jumped up instantly and 
ran for the door. In vain did Father Ramsay call to him 
that he himself would go. He was beyond hearing. A few 
moments later they heard the front door close with a bang 
and beheld the stalwart form of the young athlete — intel¬ 
lectual as well as muscular — bounding down the cement walk 
to the street. He trotted rather than walked to the sidewalk. 


[288] 


CHAPTER XXXII 


After the Battle 

F ATHER NEW COME turned to Father Ramsay. 

“That is a very remarkable young man. I did not 
think there was a priest in the United States so well 
posted on scientific subjects or who had such a grasp of the 
scientifico-religious problem. Whee-e-e-o-ow. And what a 
remarkable turn for logic! ’ ’ 

Father Ramsay and Dr. Pembroke both smiled while they 
exchanged significant glances. 

“My dear father’’ said Father Ramsay, “There is one 
of the most remarkable young men of the day. I would like 
to see one of your professional scientific apostles in his pres¬ 
ence for about two hours. ’ ’ 

“What a pity that he should be hidden away here in this 
out-of-the-way corner of the world, attending to sick calls and 
the like. Such shining lights should not be hidden under a 
bushel. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Rather what a blessing ’ ’ replied Father Ramsay. ‘ ‘ His 
being sent here is one of the special providences of our day, 
little as we are accustomed to believe in them.” 

“Why, how can that be? But how or where did he get 
acquainted so thoroughly with the profound problems which 
are agitating the world ? ’ ’ 

“That is precisely wdiere the special providence is func¬ 
tioning,” replied Father Ramsay with much warmth, and 
moving his chair towards Father Newcome. “Had he been 
placed in a large, busy, crowded parish, where his time would 
be so completely occupied that he would have none left for 

[289] 


G 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


study, or reading, or making acquaintance with the great 
questions which, as you say, are agitating the world just now, 
he might have passed them over without notice for want of 
time; but instead -of having his time engrossed by ten thousand 
nothings which would fritter it away completely if he were 
in a crowded city parish, he has found here his real work in 
life, as I regard it. Had he been placed in a seminary or a 
university as mere college professor, he would in all prob¬ 
ability have become a specialist in some ’ology or other, a 
hack, a slave, a humdrum teacher without zeal or novelty, a 
mere clog in the wheel of learning—our modern juggernaut 
—a mere piece in the vast machine. He would, perhaps, like 
so many others, feel that he owed it to his institution and his 
position to adopt the errors of the age, now become so popu¬ 
lar. Here on the contrary he has had a narrower field of 
labor, hut with a broader outlook and much leisure to use his 
fine intellectual gifts of so rare a nature. Nature has richly 
endowed him with extraordinary powers, and opportunity 
has been offered here for their fullest development.’’ 

“But what have been his opportunities? No lectures. 
No association with men of science. No scientific clubs. No 
means of acquaintance with things as they are. Why I have 
heard scientific men who did not even understand what the 
problems of the day really were. I have met with iconoclasts 
bent intently upon demolishing religion and all its idols, but 
who do not know where, if any place, there is a conflict be¬ 
tween religion and modern knowledge.” 

“You are not very complimentary to us here in Toneton. 
But nevertheless Father Shairp has his Darwin by heart with 
all its strength and with all its weakness. He has made a 
special study of Renan with a view to refuting him. He 
believes — and rightly I think — that these are the two real 
sources of error at the present time, the fountain-heads of all 
the follies of the foolish world today — and he has mastered 
all their logic and all their fallacies.” 

[290] 


AFTER THE BATTLE 


He is evidently a mastermind in logic, ’ ’ he replied with 
a strange look of remembrance on his countenance — of the 
incisiveness -of his opponent’s logic. ‘‘He could not, I believe, 
make a mistake in logic if he tried, so inflexibly does his mind 
turn to truth and truth’s own tools and weapons.” 

‘‘You should read his annotated analysis of Darwin. It 
is the most powerful piece of criticism I have ever read.” 

“He has read Darwin then?” 

‘ ‘ Read him! He has read him and studied him and 
analyzed him and all with the skill of a master. It is no 
easy matter to grasp all the strong and all the weak points in a 
thesis which runs through a volume of 500 pages of material 
as dry-as-dustish as Darwin’s facts and theories. The reader 
forgets and very -often the writer — the bearing of the facts 
or the force — or lack of it — in connection with his argument. 
With Father Shairp the thread of thought is never broken. 
He pursues it unrelentingly through and through, never loses 
sight of the aim that is proximate -or the aim that is remote, 
and he has completely demolished the whole, exposed every 
fallacy, and laid bare every weakness, while at the same time 
giving him credit for his strong points.” 

“Why does he not publish it?” asked the other with much 
interest. 

“Publish it!” laughed Father Ramsay heartily, “who 
would read it if he did publish it ? Who reads Darwin him¬ 
self ? Out of the thousand glib apostles who quote him, and 
swear by him, and abuse religion on account of him, and who 
go about preaching his doctrines, how many have read him 
through? How many of those who have read him have 
understo-od him? And who can blame them for not reading 
him ? -It is a long, weary, dreary road he makes us travel and 
we so often lose sight of the path because the end seems 
to be nowhere. We flounder along renewing our end which 
keep always receding. A veritable journey through the great 
Sahara of science!” 

“That is very true,” said Father Newcome, a trifle 

[291] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


nervously, “but why should not Father Shairp’s analysis be 
interesting ? ’ ’ 

“Father Shairp’s analysis is not only masterly; it is 
exhaustively minute. It is a commentary which omits no 
weakness or passes over no strength. Often the analysis of 
one page of Darwin will cover many pages. If the world will 
not read Darwin how could it be expected to read a com¬ 
mentary on him, dealing with all his points and arguments, 
and much more voluminous.” 

“But the world does read Darwin,” protested Father 
Newcome, though somewhat half-heartedly. 

“The world talks Darwin but does not read him. A 
professional man here and there, a drudging student of 
nature, or so, condemns himself to the awful punishment, but 
for the masses of his followers not one in ten thousand has 
read a hundred pages of him. They read a chapter here. 
They glance at a summary there. They look at the concluding 
chapters, but very few go through the labor of studying him. 
They have not the power of sustained thought.” 

‘ ‘ How then has he so many disciples, if men have not read 
him? We read much about him in the magazines and reviews 
and the writers must assuredly know something about him. 
Have they not read him ? ’ ’ 

“No, they have not read him. They have read the writ¬ 
ings of popular writers who have read him — at least in part. 
The faith in Darwin is owing more to Huxley and Spencer 
than to Darwin. It is due to those popular writers who have 
been the apostles -of Darwinism and it is those, Father Shairp 
thinks — and I think so too — should be answered. They 
have popularized doubt without knowing what doubt really 
is. As Cardinal Newman somewhere says, ‘In all cases, what 
is often and unhesitatingly asserted, at length finds credit with 
the mass of mankind.’ They have, by mere dint of crying 
out that Christianity is discredited, cast doubts upon religion. 
They have created the opinion in shallow minds that Chris- 

[292] 


AFTER THE BATTLE 


tianity is somehow discredited, although they never go to the 
trouble of putting their finger on the spot where it has been 
discredited. If they allude to it, it is in a passing innuendo, 
in which they merely touch the point and at once glance off 
like a ball that grazes but never enters.” 

Father Newcome winced very perceptibly during this 
harangue especially the latter part, as if it covered his own 
position. 

“There is much truth in what you say,” he admitted, 
“and it might perhaps have been better had more people 
paused before taking what after all has proved to be only a 
leap in the dark — or had they at least taken pains to be sure 
of their reasons before assuming new positions.” 

Father Ramsay perceived that he had made a point and 
was determined to drive it home. 

‘ ‘ There has been a reason, ’ ’ he replied, ‘ ‘ for their undue 
haste. The propaganda made it a special point to harp 
continually on the intellectuality of the modern movement. 
Only the ignorant clung to the past; so they said. The march 
of intellect has long swept past. How was the nineteenth 
century to accept the follies of the first? they inquired. How 
put the new wine of science in the old bottles of Judaism? 
How could men, the heirs of all the ages in the foremost files 
of time, stoop to feed on the husks of primitive knowledge —• 
the crude notions of a thousand years ago ? — the superstition 
of the dark ages — the crude credulities of Judaism? These 
were the arguments that appealed to the shallow and ignorant. 
The misknowledge of the age appealed to vanity, not to reason. 
Even Darwin himself, when the appeal to reason proved a 
failure, was fain to appeal to passion and stoop to the level 
of the very language which I have quoted. It is not Darwin 
or the reading of Darwin that is responsible for the unrest. 
No. He has never been read. If he were he would have fewer 
followers, as Father Shairp truly says. One so-called Catholic 
novelist utters a cry of warning to the church to beware, for 

[293] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


the ‘Origin of Species’ in a cheap edition has appeared on the 
newsstands. Vain alarm! No sound mind will read Darwin 
and believe in his theories. No, Darwin has never been read. 
He has been merely referred to as the oracle which might be 
consulted for further information or for confirmation of 
theories; but no one takes the trouble to read him. The 
impression was created ex proposito that he had most dam¬ 
aging proof against religion and most convincing proof of 
modern theories; but somehow or other these proofs have 
never been brought forward. The multitude was panic- 
stricken and stampeded; but all this was accomplished 
through brag and bluster. And Father Shairp judges and 
judges rightly I think — that here is the real enemy — a wfice 
without a body — that must be met. But no one would read 
an analysis of Darwin, except, perhaps a few savants.” 

“But still I can not but think it would be an immense 
advantage to have such a work published.” 

“Since no one reads Darwin, who would read a treatise 
on Darwin? That is Father Shairp’s invariable reply; and 
I agree with him. But if you are anxious to read the com¬ 
mentary, some day or other I shall see that you have an 
opportunity of doing so.” 

“But you live in a corner of the world here where there 
is no intellectual life or movement. You are never brought 
into contact with minds that are advanced in modern knowl¬ 
edge.” 

Father Ramsay smiled. “You seem to forget that al¬ 
though we do not live in the metropolis or in a great city, we 
are right in the heart of a university center and that our 
immediate university numbers its students by the thousand, 
while the professors are among the most noted and distin¬ 
guished in the country. We know a little, too, of what is going 
on in the world, and — we rub up occasionally against intel¬ 
lectual people, as you call them. Besides, have we not the 
papers and magazines and books? and one finds in these, 

[294] 


AFTER THE BATTLE 


nowadays, everything — except truth. And what we do not 

find in these we get on the lecture platform—always except¬ 
ing truth.’ ’ 

t 

“Are the professors men of advanced thought?” Father 
Newcome was not completely cured, evidently. 

“Very,” was the laconic reply. 

“Have you many Darwinians among them?” 

“All without exception are pronounced Darwinians — 
at least their language seems to indicate this. Their books, 
their speech, their course 'of studies, their whole view of life 
is ordered according to the theory.” 

“Has Father Shairp met them or given them his views?” 

‘ ‘ Oh! dear, yes. They understand him; they meet him; 
discuss the question with them. He talks with them, laughs 
with them, jokes with them, jollies them on the subject of 
their new-fangled theories.” 

‘ ‘ Do they listen to him ? ” he asked with interest. 

“Assuredly; and there is not one of them that does not 
swear by him; but when he asks them why they continue to 
teach these strange foundationless doctrines they shrug their 
shoulders invariably, as much as to say, ‘ what would you have 
us do?’ ” 

“Meaning, I suppose, like the Areopagus to St. Paul that 
they will hear him at some other time.” 

“No, no. Meaning rather, we quite agree with you; but 
should we introduce these antiquated views, we should be 
regarded as fossils behind the times, and thus lose our 
patronage — perhaps our jobs. ’ ’ 

“Well, well, I did not think there was so much bo be 
said against Darwinism, and on our side of the subject. ’ ’ And 
the good man already began to take heart and to feel that he 
himself was sound and orthodox in his Christianity again. 

Another ring of the telephone! This time it was Rose — 
summoning Dr. Pembroke and Father Ramsay without delay 
to the bedside of Mrs. Edwards. Her illness seemed to have 

[295] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


taken a new turn suddenly and without warning, and she was 
rapidly sinking. 

The next mail brought Father Shairp from George a 
letter which threw some light on Father Newcome’s religious 
position. “I am informed on undoubted authority/’ the 
letter read, “that Father Newcome is a High Church Anglican 
clergyman, and exceedingly advanced in his views. He admits 
the Papal Supremacy, claims that his Anglican orders are 
valid, and consequently claims that he is a true Catholic 
priest in communion with Rome; although he has never made 
his submission to it. He is in perfect good faith.” 

Father Shairp was deeply grieved and mortified when he 
read this. “It was a shame to treat a Protestant clergyman 
in such cruel fashion. I concluded from his language that he 
was a Catholic priest. That is why I did not spare him,” 
said he somewhat ruefully to Dr. Pembroke. 

“Would it not be just as cruel, if he had been a genuine 
Catholic priest?” the Doctor innocently inquired. 

“Not at all; it would be the proper way. A Catholic 
priest who, with his knowledge, coquettes with these foolish 
theories, deserves to be flayed alive — metaphorically. We 
treat each other as brothers, you see — sons of a common 
mother, the church.” 

“Well you certainly did treat Father Newcome as one of 
the family,” and the Doctor smiled a strange sort of a smile. 

“Yes,” replied Father Shairp, “and I believe it was one 
more of these cases where he would rather I hadn’t.” 


[296] 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


The Scientists and Radium 

T HE effect upon George of the knowledge of the discovery 
of radium which was instantly communicated to him by 
his friends, was marvelous. His last vestige of con¬ 
fidence in the late Professor Huxley’s judgment had been 
shaken to the very foundations, as we have seen. He could 
trust no man’s judgment where his interests or theories were 
at stake: and least of all could he trust to scientific men. 
With all their gabble about fair play, about scientific methods, 
about verification, about certainty; with all their fine phrases 
and strong language about scientific truth and the scien¬ 
tific method applied to other subjects, about easy cre¬ 
dulity and acceptance, without proof, on mere authority, he 
felt there was no realm of knowledge where practice contra¬ 
dicted theorj", or where the very vices and defects which 
science so vehemently decried, were to be found in so great 
abundance as in the sciences themselves. “Why, it is all 
humbug from beginning to end, ’ ’ he said to himself; and his 
whole soul revolted with all the impetuosity of his strong 
and generous nature against the imposition and false preten¬ 
sions. Where it was not flat, unfounded credulity, it was a 
simple begging of the question. Wliere it was not bold, 
broad, wanton, insolent bluff, it was a pleading for toleration. 
It was dishonesty — misrepresentation — subornation of 
fact, and cool, impudent assumption of intellectual superiority. 
“There are,” he thought, “honest, superior men in the ranks 
of science; but they are not those whose voices are heard from 
the housetops. They make no clamor in the street. The 

[297] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


bruised reed they will not break, and the smoking flax they 
will not extinguish. They make no rout about their work. 
They have no pretensions; yet they are the real glory of our 
age — the real giants in science. They are men deserving of 
honor — the real benefactors of mankind. ’’ 

“What a great, vast humbug is the world, anyhow,” he 
thought, “and its pride and its lusts are buried in a day!” 

By a singular coincidence, it was George’s privilege, on the 
same day on which the discussion mentioned in the preceding 
chapter took place, to attend one more scientific meeting 
It was an Eclectic Scientists’ Convention in which gentle¬ 
men from the various provinces of science met and exchanged 
views. Very interesting and very accurate was the knowl¬ 
edge discussed on this occasion. There were present scientists 
from all parts of the United States and a few of the more or less 
distinguished ones from England, France and Germany. There 
was hardly a phase of scientific thought that was not represen¬ 
ted. The leading question was: What, in the light of our full, 
noon-day scientific knowledge, was the actual age of the earth 
— of life on the earth? With this was coupled, as far as the 
discussion would admit, a discussion of the duration of the 
sun and its heat. There was a variety of opinions on these 
points, and the debate at times waxed fierce and strenuous. 
But the pole star which guided the discussion throughout was: 
How long did Darwin require for his theory of the transmu¬ 
tation of species ? And, to do the scientists justice, they were 
nowise niggard of the commodity which seemed to be their 
possession. They were willing to accomodate him to any 
required limit, regardless of any inhibition from such vulgar 
things as facts. 

Professor Jones of Abingdon was chairman of the con¬ 
vention. In the course of his paper on biological science, its 
scope, its history, its discoveries, its requirements, its accuracy, 
its exactions with regard to time, etc., he made some most 
interesting statements of facts which there was no question- 

[298] 


THE SCIENTISTS AND RADIUM 


ing. “The nebular hypothesis” he said, “was a fact — an 
unquestioned, if not an unquestionable fact.” The coales¬ 
cence of the vapors, the flame, the revolutions upon an axis, the 
extraordinary heat, the cooling, the hardening, — in a word, 
all the germane questions were brought into the debate. 

He threw upon a screen some very interesting photo¬ 
graphs of a nebula which he had observed in the constellation 
Taurus and said “We can see them forming there now. It is 
a stupendous thought. We can look on at new worlds in the 
making. We not only know that it is done, we not only know 
how it is done, but we can actually see the process in the act 
of performance with our own eyes aided by the tremendous 
power of a modern telescope. Just think of it, gentlemen! 
In ancient times vast amphitheatres were constructed, built 
for men to behold an interesting spectacle like the Lupercalia, 
the struggles of the wretched Christians with wild beasts in 
the Arena, the performances of the athletes, the races and so 
forth. Vast was the throng, wonderful the structure, but most 
wonderful of all was the spectacle. It has been so in our times, 
too. We have hippodromes and gardens in their vastness 
surpassing everything on which thie ancients prided them¬ 
selves, but what are they all compared with the auditorium 
of the entire earth, with the whole human race, the spectators ? 
And what is the spectacle? The creation of a new world! 
We behold the cradle of new planets, the factory in which 
nature moulds and fashions them. We behold vast solid 
worlds with their rocks and mountain chains and metals of 
various descriptions as volatile as ether. We behold them in 
their incipiency when they are far more aqueous than water, 
far more gaseous than oxygen — we behold this solid earth 
when it is a mass of burning flame — gas whose heat is so 
intense that our planetary heat is as ice compaied with it. 
We gaze upon it in its various stages of transformation, its 
gaseous particles, its phosphorescence, its coalescence, its bril¬ 
liancy, its radiance, the adhesion of its particles closing 

[299] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


up rapidly as the heat passes off, its solidification, the won¬ 
derful reduction of its dimensions as it is transmuted by the 
wonderful alchemy of nature’s process from gaseous to liquid 
and from liquid to solid form — the entire cooling process, 
the mass of heat still clinging to the centre and then the 
formation of the outer crust gradually cooling, then the 
manifestations of life on its surface, the fungous growth, the 
burning molten mass within, the cooling crust of the exterior 
and then — life; — green fields, trees — plants — animals — 
all living things. Come, my fellow-scientists; come, my col¬ 
leagues; come and see the beginnings and the progress and 
development of things — the wondrous loom of nature sus¬ 
pended aloft, out of which is woven the new heavens, the new 
earth, with the wonderful tapestry of green islands and blue 
seas, and mountain and lake and rolling river — come and 
see it all. It is mighty. It is wonderful. It is stupendous. 
It is overwhelming. It stupefies the mind of man to think of 
it. Who would ever have conceived that this could ever be 
discovered by man with his feeble instruments ? ’ ’ 

There was a universal outburst of applause at the close, 
and the discussion commenced. 

“You have no doubt about all this?” said Professor 
Love, a renowned biologist. 

“There is no room for doubt,” blandly replied the Pro¬ 
fessor. “We can see the worlds forming up there now.” 

‘ ‘ How many millions of years do you suppose it requires 
for the gaseous nebula to assume solidity and then to become 
cool enough for the accomodation of life upon the spherical 
surface ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That is a question which it is impossible to answer with 
any degree of accuracy. The time for the condensation of 
the gaseous forms is something which we can not even con¬ 
ceive; and then we have to compute the remainder of the 
time from its condensation to its solidification into the Cam¬ 
brian rock, for instance. We can form no estimate whatever 

[300] 


THE SCIENTISTS AND RADIUM 


of the extent of time it took for the cooling process, first from 
the nebula to a form of condensation, then to solidification, 
then to geological formation. No, no; we can form no estimate 
whatever of the length of the cooling process. ” 

“You are quite sure there must have been a cooling 
process?” asked George. 

The professor opened his eyes wide in astonishment—much 
as an ancient abbot might have looked at a young miracle- 
worker of his monastery who began to express doubts about 
his belief in God. 

4 ‘You do not, I hope, question the authority of La 
Place?” was the reply in as severe a tone as the impertinence 
demanded. 

“I have been taught by recent knowledge to question 
everything , to take nothing on faith — and above all, to take 
nothing on the mere authority of great names.” 

“Professor Edwards has not abandoned the scientific 
faith, I hope?” he said in astonishment. 

“Professor Edwards has learned by a severe lesson to 
believe nothing in science but what is proven. If not demon¬ 
strated it is not science. It is not fair to ask the world to call 
science what is merely guess-work. The entire modern science 
is nothing but a piece of patchwork of scientific guessing. ’ ’ 

“This is somewhat strange.” 

“That, however, is not the question under consideration 
at present. The question is, how long has the world lasted? 
How long does it take from the time the process of condensa¬ 
tion sets in until the globe becomes habitable ? And then how 
long since that time; that is, since life first appeared on this 
earth ?’’ 

“That question is answered by computing how long it 
has taken for the earth to give out its heat — the length of 
the cooling process.” 

“Are you sure there has been a cooling process?” 

“As sure of anything in science.” 

[301] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


“And that it must have been long?” 

“And that it must have been long.” 

‘ ‘ And why must it have been s-o long ? ’ ’ 

“Because Darwin requires it.” 

“Very good,” said George with a grunt that was quite 
audible throughout the spacious hall. 

“At about how many years would you estimate it?” he 
added. 

“The Darwinian theory requires according to its author 
an indefinite period of time. 306,000,000 years or over for the 
denudation of the wealds of Kent and many times that for the 
carrying out of the biological idea. The time required for 
the earth to cool to such an extent that life could endure 
upon its surface is incalculable — practically infinite; and 
then the time required from which it became cool enough 
for the development of life upon it through all that is known 
to us, is equally incalculable, hundreds and hundreds of mil¬ 
lions of years.” 

“And all this is required for the cooling of the earth’s 
surface ? ’ ’ 

“Most certainly.” 

“But,” and again came the question, “how do you know 
the earth had to cool ? ’ ’ 

“You would not question the theory of La Place, would 
you ? ’ ’ was again the response. 

“How sure are you that the nebular hypothesis is the 
true one ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Is it not the accepted theory of all science ? ’ ’ 

“So was once the now abandoned corpuscular theory of 
light. Hence you see the acceptation of science does not con¬ 
stitute certainty.” 

“Well it is in the highest degree probable. Is not that 
sufficient ? ’ ’ 

“Not at all. We are dealing with questions of science, 
not conjecture. Certainty alone will be accepted. We can 

[302] 


THE SCIENTISTS AND RADIUM 


not accept any degree of probability — no matter how strong; 
it must be certainty. Among the fundamental truths of 
science there must be no confusion between what is certain 
and what is more or less probable.” 

“But Darwinism requires this length of time,” he pro¬ 
tested somewhat petulantly. 

“But you are exceedingly accommodating, are you not? 
to distort your scientific chronology to suit the theory of 
Darwin. ’’ 

“Yes, but Darwin seems to have struck the proper theory, 
the most probable one.” 

“Then you admit that your own yields in probability 
to that of Darwin. In other words yours is an adjustable 
theory of chronological arrangement, developed on a sort of 
sliding scale to suit emergencies.” 

“It is fairly certain that the earth is cooling and the 
sun is also cooling. A few thousand years more or less in the 
calculation does not alter the question materially.” 

1 ‘ But what if the earth is not cooling at all ? ” 

The others laughed a scornful laugh. 

“What is the proof that it is cooling?” George insisted 
forcibly. 

“Why as for proof since you are so exacting, there is 
none. It is an accepted theory equivalent to a certainty. ’ ’ 

“But what if it should prove to be false?” 

“That is impossible. It is one of those questions which 
like Darwinism, for instance, can not be proved false.” 

“Nevertheless it has been proved false within the past 
twenty-four hours. ’’ 

“What? Is there any new discovery?” came from a 
dozen scientists at once, while all were excitedly interested. 
Professor Edwards was always sure to have reason for his 
statements. 

“Gentlemen. Fellow scientists;” said George impres¬ 
sively. “Is it not about time that we put an end to the 

[303] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


dogmatism of science, and that we should put nothing forward 
to the world as science except what has been indisputably 
proven — what rests on an irrefragable basis? More cre¬ 
dulity has been lavished on silly and unfounded scientific 
theories than has ever been squandered on all the supersti¬ 
tions of all the ages put together. ’’ 

“We do not want a sermon; we want to know on what 
grounds you presume to say that the theory of La Place, of 
Kant, of Goethe, of all the scientists that have lived since the 
days of La Place have been proven false,’ ’called out Dr. 
Bumpus angrily. 

‘ ‘ On the strongest of all grounds — grounds that are not 
at all debatable, the real ground on which all scientific teach¬ 
ing should rest and on no other — the ground of solid fact. ’ ’ 

“What new fad has Professor Edwards been discover¬ 
ing? He should not have kept it secret,” said Professor 
Bumpus derisively, addressing the chairman instead of George. 

George did not deign to notice the derision. “Within 
the past ten days,” he continued, “there has been discovered 
a fact so far-reaching that it has distanced all former dis¬ 
coveries in physical science — a tremendous fact, an incon¬ 
trovertible fact, a fact which upsets all the calculations of 
scientists for the past two centuries. The earth, the sun, are 
so far from being self-cooling — requiring millions of years 
for the process — that they are not self-cooling at all; on the 
contrary, they are self-heating, it seems. A new element — 
radium, as it has been called, has been discovered by that 
illustrious scientist — and by his no less illustrious wife — I 
mean Professor and Madame Curie, which from the standpoint 
of physical science, far transcends in importance everything 
that has yet been discovered. All that has been said on the 
subject of the earth’s cooling, has been so much wasted breath 
— all that has been written, so much waste paper. All the 
scientific calculations that have been made with the assump¬ 
tion of a cooling earth as the basis are completely overturned; 

[304] 


THE SCIENTISTS AND RADIUM 

they are absolutely worthless. All the hypotheses — and they 
are many — regarding the earth and its constitution and 
duration, and history, into which this theory has entered as 
a necessary factor must have revision. All the theories, all 
the claims on this basis have been nothing but the routings 
of a rabble, the mouthings of a mob. Let us hide our heads 
in shame. It is a terrible rebuke to our scientific pride and 
insolence. We have been domineering, intolerant, insolent, 
arrogant. In our overweening confidence we have been over¬ 
bearing and falsely authoritative. We must now bow our 
heads in shame for our arrogant and foolish assumptions. 
But the lesson should not end here. It gives a salutary if 
awful lesson to all generations of speculative scientists. 
Science can never again be dogmatic in its theories. The 
discovery of radium has upset all the calculations of specula¬ 
tive science for the past two centuries. Let it be hoped that 
science will not forget the lesson. Never again should man — 
sane man with all his senses — undertake to dogmatize about 
any hypothesis, however plausible, since he can not be sure 
that a day will not come when a discovery, like that of 
radium, will upset all his calculations and bring shame on the 
dogmatists. When we reflect that it has entered into every 
calculation of speculative science for the past two hundred 
years, that the earth has been a molten mass cooling off 
gradually, and that the same was true of the sun; and when 
we further reflect that the discovery of this new substance 
disposes unquestionably of this notion forever, we see our 
folly — the folly of science. We had introduced it into our 
popular theories of geology, of astronomy, of physics. We 
had proclaimed it from the housetops. We had made it the 
one thing certain in science — or as good as certain — and 
we had ridiculed religion on account of it. Woe betide the 
man who dare question it. Ridicule, sarcasm, all the batteries 
of wit and scorn were turned on the unfortunate wight who 

[ 305 ] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


might have the hardihood to challenge it, for the doctrine had 
come to be regarded as fundamental. 

“And now, how many theories about which we speak 
with equal confidence is science fondly cherishing? How 
many such have we ? And on what surer foundation do they 
rest ? How many are they ? Every theory that is not proven. 
And yet we are just as arrogant about them today as we were 
yesterday about the cooling process. To-day there is a vast 
hole in the world of science. The doctrine itself must not only 
drop out of sight, but it has filled so large a place in the 
supposed substantiation of other doctrines, that, like Milton’s 
archangel, it draws with it the third part of the scientific 
heavens. Our other theories may some day have their 
radium; or they may not; but it is well to give fact as fact and 
theory as theory without arrogance or dogmatism. Let us, 
gentlemen, be honest in the field of science, if we wish to 
enlarge the disc of truth. There is little more to be said. 
I, for one, abandon the field of speculative science forever. 
Its half-truths are not worth the labor. Truth is sweet when 
it is truth. But what is equal to the overwhelming mortifica¬ 
tion of having been discovered as the intolerant champion of 
demonstrated error ? And our intolerance has been in inverse 
proportion to the falsity of the supposed truth.” 

There was much crowding around the platform. They 
all had heard of the discovery of radium. They all suspected 
more or less its far-reaching results; but they were not quite 
prepared for such an upsetting of a doctrine which they had 
regarded as impregnable, a veritable Gibraltar of science. 

But George had, with one bound from the platform 
disappeared — and disappeared from the ranks of speculative 
science forever. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 
The Cancer Hospital 

J UST one year later as the new nurse at the Cancer Hospi¬ 
tal was dressing the wounds of a patient whose can¬ 
cerous bleeding sore was the source of much pain to the 
patient and much distress to the quiet, gentle and sweet¬ 
faced woman who so tenderly dressed the wound, a slight 
commotion in the hallway attracted the attention of the 
suffering victim. 

“ There, good nurse, there is a sufferer who will claim 
your attention and your sympathy more even than my 
wounds. ’ ’ 

“How is that?” asked the nurse blushing violently; for 
her eye had caught a glimpse in passing of the patient’s pro¬ 
file and there was no mistaking it. 

4 ‘ I know, for the reason that I got a glimpse of his face, 
and there is no mistaking the countenance of those who have 
the most malignant and painful kind; I have had experience 
with my own though it is only one; I can not be mistaken 
in the matter; and that poor man can have no less than ten; 
his whole body as well as his face seems to be afflicted. I 
noticed even his hand is being devoured by the cruel disease. ’’ 
“May Hod give him the courage to sustain his sufferings 
patiently and console him in them. I fear he will have need 
of God’s help to endure it all. The pain in its intensity is 
bad enough; but the nausea and disgust engendered—” but 
she bit her lip instantly as she remembered to whom she was 
speaking — a sufferer who would realize the truth of her 
remarks. 

“We have to stand it. We can not get away from it if 

[307] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


we would. But how can you, so young, so sweet, so delicate, 
so beautiful, how can you stand it? How can you bury 
yourself here in this living grave, in this charnel house of 
suffering where the scoria and effluvia from our loathsome 
disease must stifle your nostrils all day long? Why do you 
stay—a lily on a dung hill? And yet, if you should decide 
not to stay it would be like taking the sun out of the heavens. 
I can imagine what would be the joy of the lost souls if an 
angel should pass through hell. How joyous would be the 
sufferers, since it brings such joy to us poor unfortunate 
sufferers here to look upon your sweet face, to say nothing of 
the sweet and kind words and angelic ministrations.” And 
the poor fellow in the warmth of his gratitude took her hand 
and kissed it as devoutly as if she had been the Madonna. 

“Hush! Edward,” she cried hurridly. “Please pardon 
me for the words I have uttered. I have been very thought¬ 
less indeed. I believe I have wounded your feelings — the 
last thing a nurse should do; but I was thoughtless and 
distracted by the sight of the new patient who, as you say, 
seemed to be suffering such violent pain. ’ ’ 

“You could not wound if you tried. Your tongue could 
not wound any more than a rose leaf. I hope they will not 
take you away altogether from the care of me. I notice, 
however, that the worse the patient is, the surer you are to 
be called to attend him. That is why I have so much of your 
angel care and gentle ministrations because my pain is the 
greatest. I shall be madly jealous of that newcomer with all 
his suffering, if they will be so great as to absorb all your 
attention and take you away altogether from me. In fact 
I am beginning to get jealous of his many cancers already, 
and would gladly have mine increase in number so that I 
might have the blessed privilege of your watchful care and 
tender words. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I fear I shall be obliged to chide you if you talk naughty 


THE CANCER HOSPITAL 

language like that,” said Rose laughing, though her heart 
was sad. 

But just then there was a messenger to summon nurse 

Rose to come to number 17, where was installed the new 
patient. 

There was no denying it; it was George — a mass of 
sores and ulcers from head to foot. They were no new de¬ 
velopment. He had simply borne up with heroic courage 
under them — never even letting his colleagues know of his 
condition. 

From the moment that he had given up all hope and faith 
in speculative science, he, too, determined to still serve man¬ 
kind like a doctor in the ranks -of science. He could not teach 
man anything new about his origin, his destiny, his last end. 
He could not read the riddle of the universe for men, as he 
had so hopefully promised himself in days gone by. He could 
not throw any new light on man and his history. He had 
made the discovery all to late, that the doors from the side of 
science were all tightly closed and sealed against him. When 
he had fully realized this, he turned his mind to practical 
science and to that section of it in which he could be of use to 
his fellowman. The X Ray he regarded as one of the most 
wonderful as well as the most useful of modern discoveries. 
It was a scientific fact which no man or scientist could blink; 
and he believed there were vast possibilities in the fact which 
could be still further extended for the beenfit of suffering 
humanity. Many additional improvements had already been 
made, and he believed that further modifications and con¬ 
sequent applications might be made for the betterment of 
suffering men and women. He had been drawn to this study 
from the time that his faith in speculative science began to 
waver; and he embraced every opportunity of becoming 
acquainted with the operations of the scientific process. He 
at first hired an expert to give him private instructions; but 
it was only a matter of a few days when he could teach the 

[ 309 ] 


HOW GEOEGE EDWAKDS SCEAPPED EELIGION 


expert, whom he soon dismissed, and began experimentation 
on his own account. 

He had got himself established as X Eay expert at the 
Hospital of Emergency. This gave him ample field for his 
genius, and in a short space of time he was able to register 
many improvements in the application of the instrument, 
which precluded all danger to the patient from its frequent 
use. By constant attention and experiment he had succeeded 
beyond all hope. Indeed, so expert had he become that one 
patient had been “X Eayed” as he called it, not less than 
three hundred times without suffering the slightest inconven¬ 
ience from its use. 

But, to become thus expert, he had been obliged to prac¬ 
tice with this singular instrument, and it might safely be 
said that what he had saved his patients he had paid in 
suffering out of his own body. The result was that from the 
constant contact with the instrument and unceasing experi¬ 
mentation with cancerous and other diseases, he soon became 
a mass of cancerous sores painful and frightful to look upon. 
Like Faraday, he became the victim of his instruments and 
experiments. This condition, of course, did not manifest 
itself at once. The disease worked upon him gradually. The 
mental strain under which he labored for the past few months 
undermined his strength, and when the final act of his rela¬ 
tions with his work was completed, he broke down instantly 
and completely. The cancerous poison had obtained a com¬ 
plete mastery of the whole man, his will alone excepted. It 
actually seemed as if the force of his will was able to set 
limits to the disease and to check its pace. But the disease 
soon reached a vital spot, and it was decided to take him to 
the hospital where a specialist was giving at least a little 
relief, if he was not curing the disease. 

For many days, however, after he had left the scientific 
convention, in the dramatic manner related in a previous 
chapter his mind, still seemed to be weighing in the balance 

[3io] 


THE CANCER HOSPITAL 


the hopes and prospects of his future life. One of his first 
acts was to go Randall Street where the Carmelite church 
was located, and ask for the superior. 

The next morning the little throng of daily communicants 
who crowded about the altar railing found amongst their 
number a young man of unwonted pallor, noble demeanor and 
unwonted piety. He seemed heedless of everything around 
him. So completely was he absorbed in his devotions, that it 
seemed as though lightning might have struck the church and 
levelled it to its foundations, without in the least perturbing 
him. A deep sigh escaped him as he knelt at the railing; but 
he was apparently as unconscious of the presence of others in 
the edifice as if he were stone blind and stone deaf. To him 
there evidently was in the vast edifice just the presence of 
God and himself alone. He lingered after the others had 
departed. And when his private devotions were ended, he 
moved, or rather seemed to drag his emaciated form to the 
stations of the cross. He used neither book nor set form of 
words. Indeed, his lips did not move at all, but he gazed 
earnestly at the sculptured figure of the suffering Christ, and 
the look of devotion »on his face spoke of the ardor of the soul 
within and of a devotion which, perhaps, has been equalled 
in its intensity only by the devotion of the seraphic St. 
Francis. 

His devotions finished, George was about to take his 
departure when a messenger boy walked up through the aisle, 
and handed him a telegraphic despatch, saying: “I have 
been to your office and to your room; but failed to find you. 
A Carmelite Father told me I might be able to find you in the 
church.” 

George made no reply but tore open the yellow envelope 
in an absent-minded sort of way. Telegrams were everyday 
occurrences with him in connection with his History. Still 
he marvelled in an absent sort of fashion that the district 
messenger should take the pains to hunt him up. These 

[3i i] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


things were a sort of substratum in his mind, and caused him 
to wonder vaguely. He was hardly looking at the envelope 
or its contents when suddenly the date and Toneton caught his 
eye. He now glanced eagerly at the message below. It read: 

“Your mother died suddenly at seven this morning. 

Everything awaits your arrival or instructions. 

Heartfelt sympathy. 

Archibald Pembroke.” 

George, who had been standing since the arrival of the 
messenger clutched at the back of the pew in front of him, to 
prevent himself from falling. The news was not unlooked 
for. Nevertheless, it made him dizzy. He sat, or rather 
sank back in the pew. A tide of sorrowful emotion swept 
over him. The old love for his sainted mother was yet down 
deep in his heart. He was glad he was in the church; for he 
felt that were he elsewhere nothing could have kept him from 
crying or shrieking aloud in his heartfelt anguish. His heart 
swelled and surged with emotion. He felt that it was no 
sacrilege to indulge it freely here in the sacred place in the 
presence of the Holy of Holies. Nay was not his grief an act 
of religious and sacred reverence. His mother was a saint; 
and he was simply going to commune with her. 

Besides, he wanted to take an internal account with 
himself. There were yet two hours before the departure of 
his train and he had no preparations to make. 

The solemn stillness of God’s house was subduing. He 
sat in the pew and folded his arms and bowed his head and 
closed his eyes, while the mind began to work with all its 
native energy. He was alone in the world now. All whom 
he had loved had been driven from his side. His mother had 
departed from this earthly scene; those of them who had not 
departed were lost to him forever. God was his only friend 
now; and why should he not linger in His house and ponder 

[312] 


THE CANCER HOSPITAL 


his even in the shadow of the sanctuary itself. Why not 
speak to Him of everything which interested him — temporal 
as well as eternal. The sands of his own life were running 
out fast. That life so full, so rich, so rare in its promise, its 
endowments, its advantages, its opportunities. And now it 
was all ending in this strange — this inglorious way. The 
promises of his youth; the glowing and effusive eagerness 
which filled his young heart; the blessings of friends and home 
and love and affection; the virgin love of his young fiancee — 
all the blessings of youth and life! And then the spectre of 
a false science had stalked across his path and brought a 
blighting curse upon everything. What was it but the old 
temptation of the serpent: Ye shall be as gods? And for 
this he had flung aside and poured out in waste, the richest 
and rarest wine of this wondrous vintage! He had not pur¬ 
sued the path of pleasure, or of dalliance, or of wealth, or of 
gaming, or of song, or of wassail; but the blight was there 
just the same — the blight of infidelity. Surely the madcap 
intellect was more terrible in its consequences than the mad¬ 
cap senses. Intellectual profligacy was even a greater curse 
than moral profligacy. Behold the desert it had made around 
him! His own heart a wilderness! His life a wreck! The 
sirens of the intellect were worse than the sirens of the 
senses. Here he was a prodigal sitting among his empty 
husks; a Job seated on an intellectual dunghill with scoriae 
and effluvia all around, scraping his intellectual sores with 
a broken potsherd. He was seated among the ruins of his 
intellectual Nineveh, amid the wreck and ruin of his intel¬ 
lectual, his social, his family hopes and ties and affections! 

He was dazed, stunned, stupefied. Soon, however, the 
emotions of the heart came into play and routed the phantoms 
of the intellect. But they brought more agony. His mind 
went over the whole of his history, and his relations with her 
who had just been taken from him. And his heart smote him 
with self-hate as he recalled his ingratitude, which seemed 

[3i3] 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


to him all the more criminal that it had been mere thought¬ 
lessness and intellectual self-seeking. He had during the past 
few weeks been picturing to himself the joy he would bring 
to her when she learned of the return of her prodigal. That 
very day he had intended journeying to Toneton to he an 
eye witness to the joy which would be hers on learning the 
change. No other tongue must break the news to her. No 
cold pen and ink, or type-written document could be per¬ 
mitted to convey to her the precious information that her lost 
child had been restored, that the good shepherd had at last 
come up with the lost sheep, which is now being carried home 
in triumph on his shoulders. Great would be the rejoicing 
he had thought! No one could be permitted to break the 
joyful tidings but his own lips. And now. . . .! 

He started up in dismay, when he realized that now it 
was impossible! 

Reader, have you ever thought that you would have a 
confidential or heart to heart talk with a dear friend — and 
the pleasure that would come of it? And then all at once 
it dawned upon you that the ears into which you were to pour 
the story of joy or of grief are cold in death? Have you 
ever felt the frantic realization, that such things can never 
again possibly be; for your friend lies in the silent grave? 

It is this view of death that makes the death of friends most 

♦ 

terrible to the living. The thought, that never again can they 
have the confidences of old, sometimes makes men frantic. 
When you are in trouble or difficulty, or when you have a 
joy which you wish to double or a sorrow which you wish to 
halve by communicating it to the friend who was always by 
your side — and then awake to the full realization that this 
can not be — that it can never again be — this is the real 
bitterness of death. This is the separation of death brought 
home to us as it can come in no other way. We feel as if in 
a prison and beat against our prison doors in vain. This is 
what came to George. 


[3i4] 



THE CANCER HOSPITAL 


He now felt that he could never hear the words of for¬ 
giveness. He would never have the joy of a penitent con¬ 
fession of his wrong. But yesterday it was all so easy. Only 
a few hours on the train to Toneton and the joy and gladness 
of repentance and forgiveness! And now! Now it was 
impossible forever! The thought crushed him. The spirit 
within him was smitten by the reflection, as a green bough 
is smitten by the lightning blight. The walled tomb of death 
opposed an impenetrable barrier and his mother could never 
again — never while his life lasted — hear him pour out in 
her ears the story of his joys, his hopes, his fears and sorrows. 
And the thought sank like lead upon his spirits. It made him 
almost frantic. He could scarcely restrain the impetuous 
feeling that almost compelled him to roar and cry out despair¬ 
ingly to the whole world. 

He knelt in prayer for a moment. He buried his head in 
his folded arms. The image of the crucifix above him seemed 
to have painted itself on the retinue of his imagination. He 
beheld the lacerated form upon the cross as if he had been one 
of the spectators on Calvary. His strong imagination brought 
the whole scene vividly before him. He saw the bowed head, 
the parched lips. And he heard the piercing cry of agony, 
“My God! My God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?” He 
beheld the head sink upon the breast and again that other cry 
that closed the last chapter of the sacred tragedy, “It is con¬ 
summated.” Yes; for him too it was over. The consumma¬ 
tion had come. His mother had only gone before him into 
Galilee. He would soon follow. Farewell to glory, to fame, 
to intellect, to science! Farewell — a long farewell to all his 
hoped-for greatness! At last he summoned all his manly 
resolution and praying earnestly for heaven’s assistance, he 
braced himself for the sad and trying ordeal before him at 
Toneton. 

The funeral over, he placed everything in the hands of 
his cousin and Dr. Pembroke, and hastening back to the 


HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


University buried himself in his Roentgen work more deeply 
than ever. 

But one year before Mrs. Edwards had been laid in the 
tomb in Goshen, as Father Ramsay had foretold, and now 
George was fast travelling to the vacant grave by her side. 


In a moment Rose was at the side of the new patient. 
Yes, there was no mistaking it. It was George Edwards. He 
had been brought thither at his own request. Naturally, how¬ 
ever, from the nature of his disease, it was the proper hospital 
for him. 

But he did not recognize Rose. Pain, suffering, grief, the 
mental strain to which he had been subjected for some time, 
had all told upon him, fearfully. Death, reaching out its icy 
hand soon to lay it upon his bosom, was rapidly approaching; 
but at present a burning fever was consuming his strength 
and his senses were locked in delirium. 

During the thirty-six hours that followed, Rose never 
left his side not even for food. No other hand should have 
the sacred charge of caring for him. During the wanderings 
of his senses she frequently heard her own name mentioned 
in imploring accents that went to her heart. The sad story of 
his life was chromatically rehearsed by him in brief snatches 
— from his boyhood when he was with his mother — through 
his college days with Father Ramsay and Father Johnson — 
and later, through the tragedy of his apostasy and his disillu¬ 
sionment and undeception. But throughout it all, like a minor 
chord woven into a musical theme ever and anon, came Rose 
herself and Mrs. Edwards. She had never doubted the depth 
of his love for her. She now realized how much she had been 
a part of his existence. 

The ordeal was for her a trying one; but she bore up 
heroically; and when she realized how her sacrifice had been 
accepted and how the stray sheep had been restored, she 

[3i6] 



THE CANCER HOSPITAL 


sank on her knees in devout thankfulness to heaven for the 
part she had borne in his life, grateful that her holocaust had 
been so efficacious. 

The end came peacefully. The mind cleared for a few 
brief moments, but he soon fell into a coma from which he 
never rallied. 


When his papers were examined, it was found that he 
had left all his property to Rose in trust for the institution 
to which she had attached herself. 

On the broad table in his library was found a large chest 
carefully sealed. On opening it, it was found to contain all 
of “The History of the Inductive Sciences,” to all appear¬ 
ances, carefully prepared and bound, typewritten manuscript, 
ready for the printer. 

On opening the volumes one after another, it was dis¬ 
covered that he had taken the pains to draw a brush heavily 
dipped in printer’s ink over each separate page of the neatly 
prepared manuscript. Page after page was turned. Volume 
after volume was examined. But every page, every line, every 
word had been carefully obliterated. 

When the last volume was taken out for examination 
there came with and, attached to it, a large card in George’s 
own handwriting in large characters and it read: 

“No sponge is required to obliterate the history of the 
speculative sciences during the last fifty years. There has 
been no such history, for there has been no such science. 
Nothing but guesswork. 

“But let him who will and can, if he wishes to chronicle 
a real glory, write “The History of the Industrial and Prac¬ 
tical Sciences,” during the same period; he will find that 
ten volumes are insufficient, and that the pages will blaze with 
glory. What the world wants most of all to learn, is to dis¬ 
criminate between the sciences.” 


[3i7] 



HOW GEORGE EDWARDS SCRAPPED RELIGION 


Dr. Archibald Pembroke and his wife Edith Kingsley 
now occupy the stately Edwards’ mansion in Tone ton, and 
they never fail, once a week, no matter what the season or 
the weather, to visit two graves in Goshen. It is also said that 
no matter what the season or the weather, both graves are 
decorated continuously with columbine and heart’s ease, and 
that it is the special duty of one man in the Edwards con¬ 
servatory to raise these flowers and deck the graves. 

The Modern Science Club still exists in Toneton, with 
Dr. Pembroke and his wife, Father Ramsay, and Father 
Shairp, still its most active members. For Father Shairp has 
been appointed pastor of the new parish which the rapid 
growth of Toneton has necessitated. There are those who say 
that the intelligence and skill with which it is conducted is 
not without its effect even upon the university. Whatever 
the cause, the university is the most sane of institutions of 
its class, and strange to say has not a single freak among its 
professors. It is said by those who have a right to know, that 
dread of Father Ramsay’s quiet incisiveness and Father 
Shairp’s biting comment has a most wholesome influence on 
the entire atmosphere. Even Lady Gushington hesitates 
before accepting all the conclusions of Science. 

Many — some hundred, indeed — miles distant, a mag¬ 
nificent hospital, called however, ‘ ‘ The Home, ’ ’ — and if you 
inquire more particularly, you will be told, “The Edwards 
Home” — houses comfortably and cares for sedulously some 
hundreds of victims of cancer, while a sweet-faced gentle 
woman, still young, but with traces of sorrow on her features 
which the spirituality of her face can not wholly hide, lights 
up the faces of the sufferers as she makes the daily rounds 
of rooms and wards. Some of the patients will even tell you 
that they have at times beheld what they have termed a 
heavenly light upon her face, and that the same light shining 
in her eyes has dazzled them so that they were forced to turn 
aside for the moment. Be that as it may, certain it is, that 

[3i8] 


THE CANCER HOSPITAL 


the light and sunshine of her gentle smile beguiles many a 
sufferer for the while of his pain, which is entirely forgotten 
during the moments of her ministrations. The teachers of 
modern altruism in its various forms might perhaps profit by 
a visit to The Home. 


THE END 















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